Promises
by Aegismaiden
Summary: Marty Deeks had no idea he would fall for Kayla Miles, the damaged daughter of a sheriff, at the police academy. He promised to keep her safe, but after one night together, he leaves without a goodbye. Eight years later, they cross paths and he discovers the secret she's been holding the entire time: his son. Chapters 1-8: Police Academy. Chapters 9 on: present day.
1. Chapter 1

She was falling, again. Time seemed to freeze as her body went limp and tumbled to the ground.

_Thud._

What was this? Fall number fourteen? Fifteen? She had lost count. Allowing herself a few seconds on the ground, she took a deep breath, eyes closed. If she stayed like this, she might imagine herself in her own bed. Maybe the sun is just rising. Maybe the sheriff hasn't found a way to make her life miserable. Maybe-

"Miles!"

_No such luck._ Kayla's eyes fluttered open and she pulled herself silently up off the mat.

The instructor was at a complete loss—and at the end of his patience. "Seriously, Miles, you know how to take a punch, but I don't think you could ever throw one."

He rambled on, but Kayla tuned him out, distracted by a male cadet's attempt to pick up a fit female. The sandy-haired guy leaned cockily against the treadmill beside her. He grinned wolfishly and said something he obviously assumed was clever. Treadmill Girl rolled her eyes, unimpressed. He tried harder, stepping closer while thrusting his chest forward. She waved her hand, as if telling him to leave. He boldly stood on the edge of the treadmill in an attempt to whisper in her ear.

Slap.

He fell majestically to the ground, stumbling over equipment.

Kayla barked out a laugh, and the grappling instructor stopped talking to take in the commotion.

"Deeks!" He yelled. The blonde jumped to his feet and saluted sloppily.

"Sir!"

"Get your butt over here!" The boy made his way to the ring, and the captain pulled him aside. "I need you to do something for me."

"Sir?"

"I can't get this cadet to throw a punch, and she has to pass hand-to-hand quals. You seem to have a knack for bringing out the worst in people, so I'm saddling you with the job."

"I beg your pardon?" Deeks wasn't sure if he was flattered or not.

"Have cadet Miles ready for qualifications, and I'll let the punishment for that stunt you pulled back there slide. Deal?"

Deeks paused, pretending to weigh his options. "Deal." He glanced around the gym. "So who's the hottie I get to train?"

The instructor indicated Kayla, and his face fell. The scrawny girl wasn't even on the scale. Heck, she couldn't even tip a scale. Her angular body consisted of skin wrapped tightly around awkwardly lanky bones. Fine dirty blonde hair had slipped out of the ponytail holder, clinging to her gaunt, sunburned face. The only thing he found remotely attractive about her were the overly large glowing amber-brown eyes that provided an alien appeal, as if she could see right through him.

The thought made him shudder. Blinking hard, he extended his hand to her.

"Marty Deeks, at your service." Her hand was cold, the handshake weak. He wondered if it would snap like twigs if he squeezed any harder.

His reputation preceded him-unabashed playboy-but Kayla had never understood how he could possibly be so charming. Now that she beheld him up close, she could see his appeal. Though he was a couple years older than her, he had boyish good looks, unruly blonde hair that begged to be touched, sparkling blue eyes that changed from grey to cerulean in a glance, and a wolfish, teasing grin.

Kayla might have flushed, uncomfortable from his attention, but the knowledge that he was out of her league strangely calmed her. After all, she had a reputation of her own: loner, loser, and all-around weirdo. The entire cadet population had no idea how someone like her would even get in, let alone attend the police academy. She had no desire to play the mysterious female cadet. The idea of playing their games disgusted her. She was here to survive and nothing more.

So as Deeks held her hand a second too long (harmless flirting on his part) she held in a sigh and dropped her arm from reach.

"Get to work," the coach ordered, leaving Kayla to stare blankly at Deeks.

"He says you can't throw a punch to save your life," Deeks started.

Kayla offered no help, her face betrayed nothing. There was no reason to let him in until she had him figured out.

"How much do you know about hand-to-hand?"

The girl grunted noncommittally.

"Have you ever hit someone before?"

Another grunt.

"Well, you're fighting me today."

That got her attention. Her jaw tightened, nostrils flaring. "No."

"Punch me!"

"No."

Deeks was becoming annoyed. "Are you some sort of pacifist?" He took a light swipe at her shoulder.

Her eyes remained dead. She swayed with the hit but otherwise remained still.

"Come on!" He swung again, a little harder. She absorbed the hit but didn't move. "What do you plan on doing if someone actually hits you?"

For emphasis, he let his fist fly full speed toward her face. He had no intention of actually landing the hit; he only meant to make a point, but before he could show her that was the case, she dropped to the ground like a rock. She lay there in the fetal position, one hand guarding her stomach, the other covering her face.

Her teacher squatted beside her, smirking, but it dropped off at the sight of her terrified face. He had made that face himself and he realized what was going on. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched away.

"Kayla," he breathed. "I'm sorry."

The girl relaxed, blushing as she rolled into a seated position. "Just...don't do that again."

"You know I'm going to have to do it eventually."

She nodded, gulping.

"That's enough for today." He laid a hand on her shoulder. Once again, she twitched, but didn't pull away.

They stood opposite each other. Kayla continued to blush, embarrassed by her behavior, but didn't speak.

"Same time tomorrow?" Deeks tried to meet her gaze. She nodded vacantly before slipping through the ropes and jogging away.

* * *

Kayla kept her cool until she was out of sight, careful not to draw attention to the telltale flushed face. Her steps were deliberate, one in front of the other, but every, muscle in her body wanted to bolt down the road. The walk to the running trail seemed excruciatingly long, but the moment she stepped onto the path, she let everything loose.

Running flat out, she took out down the path. She thanked her lanky frame for its long legs, perfect for cross-country. Time slipped away. Her muscles ached, but she forced herself onward. She was frustrated with herself. How could she let herself show fear—here, of all places! She hated herself for failing. She hated herself for being in this wretched place. More than anything, she wished she could change her past, she wished she had never let her father touch her. And here she was, the joke of the Los Angeles Police Academy. Sweat dripped down her brow, blinding her momentarily—long enough for her to trip over a root and tumble down the hill.  
Dirt filled her mouth; she spat it out. _"Shit!"_

A pair of sneakers approached her tentatively. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied through gritted teeth.

"You sure? Do you need any help?"

"Why do people always think I need help? Do I look like a damsel in distress?"

The new girl knelt down beside Kayla. "Yeah, you sort of do."

Kayla looked at her companion. "Jocelyn? Jocelyn Hart?"

"Guilty as charged." Jocelyn smirked. Her smile was charismatic; full, straight, white teeth.

Green eyes glimmered with genuine concern, her black hair loosely pulled back. Even with sweat glistening on her forehead, she looked like a movie star. "You're Kayla Miles, right?"

Kayla eyed her suspiciously, but took the proffered hand long enough to sit on a fallen tree.  
Jocelyn's reputation preceded her, and similar to Deeks, was an avid fan of the opposite sex. It was a bit harsh to call her a slut, and to call her easy was inaccurate. She was simply confident in her sexuality and knew what she liked. Kayla almost admired this about her. With Kayla's self-confidence ground into the dirt, it was inspiring to see someone so comfortable in their own skin. Personally, she had hated her body ever since her father touched her. The thought made her skin crawl.

"I'm fine, really." Kayla squirmed under Jocelyn's concerned gaze.

"I'm sorry, but a red nose and puffy eyes aren't nothing." She crossed her arms. "Spill."

"I'm just a little beat up from falling."

"You don't seem like the kind of girl who cries because of a skinned knee."

"What makes you think you know me?"

"I don't. But I've been watching you, and I think you could do with a friend."

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that you don't have any friends."

"Who says I need one?"

"I do! This conversation, right here, is the most I've heard you speak the entire two weeks we've been here!"

"Maybe I just don't like talking."

"Maybe, but what else are you going to do? Something's bothering you, and it's not going to sort it out in your head.

Kayla became more and more annoyed. She would have up and left, but her throbbing ankle told her that was a bad idea.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sweetie, if we're going to be friends, you're going to have to tell me things."

Kayla had a friend, once. Her name was Brittani. She had asked for Kayla's sandwich and Kayla had obliged. Brittani pronounced them best friends. The next day, she asked for Kayla's milk. Friends share, after all. Every day after that, she had taken something from her with the promise of friendship. Time passed, yet Kayla never stood up, never broke away. She did start bringing boring lunches.

"Who says we're friends?"

Jocelyn sat by her on the log. "Me, that's who. Now, who is it? Do you need me to knock them out? Put a snake in their sheets?"

The bizarre response was rewarded by a small laugh, surprising both Jocelyn and Kayla.

"See?" Jocelyn prodded, "There's a smile, and a pretty one at that. So, who's the culprit?"

"It's not his fault."

"Him?" Jocelyn grinned. "Honey, if it's a man, it's always his fault. Who is it and what'd he do?"

"His name is Marty Deeks."

Cutting her off, Jocelyn squealed. "The really hot blonde guy?"

"I guess." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, he's teaching me hand-to-hand. He didn't mean anything by it, but he scared me."

"I can kill him for you, if you like."

"He apologized. Besides, violence is not the answer."

A smile slid across Jocelyn's face. "Did you just make a joke?"

Kayla blushed, but stood, testing out her ankle.

"I think you made a joke! There's hope for you yet. Anyway, there's no reason to be afraid, you've got me now! If he pulls anything else, just let me know, and I'll take him down."

The blonde winced as her ankle gave way beneath her. "Maybe I'll take you up on that, friend." Jocelyn beamed. "Good, now let's get you to the infirmary."

"No." The voice was forceful. Fear flashed across Kayla's pained face. There was no way she would let word of thid get back to her father. "I mean, I've had worse; I'll wrap it myself."

Kayla began down the path, but rolled on her ankle again and fell to her knees."

"Here," Jocelyn offered, wrapping Kayla's arm over her shoulder and lifting her fallen comrade.

"Let me help you back."

Kayla almost protested, but one step on her rapidly swelling ankle told her she wouldn't make it back on her own.

* * *

That night at dinner, Deeks cornered Philips. The question had plagued him from the moment he saw Kayla's terrified face: why him? Did they know about his past? He was so sure those records had been sealed. Why would a grappling instructor choose the one guy who understood Kayla's plight?

"Honestly?" Philips asked after Deeks posed the question, "I figured you were the one guy she might consider punching. You have a tendency to bring out the worst in people, I thought it might work with her."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think you understand where she's coming from."

"Understand where she's coming from?" He repeated, "That girl is the daughter of an LAPD sheriff. She should be top of the class, but she's failing nearly every exercise. She's a wuss; she shouldn't even be here."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"She only made it in because her father pulled some strings. She barely met the qualifications for application, but he was dead set on her coming here."

"Any idea why?"

"Does it matter? She's here, and she can't even throw a punch. LA's finest, indeed. Unless that cadet whips herself into shape, she's going to be the laughingstock of her dad's precinct."

Deeks walked away, disgusted. How could an instructor like Philips be so naive? He gritted his teeth. If Kayla needed to be whipped into shape, he was hardly the man for the job.

Responsibility wasn't exactly in his repertoire of virtues, and he wasn't used to hanging out with women when there was no promise of sex. But Kayla's face! He couldn't clear it from his mind. She was so scared, but of what? He was determined to find out. Only then would he really be able to help her. Curiosity would keep him coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

Deeks doubted that Kayla would show up the next day, but he was surprised to see her standing by the ring. A smoking hot girl smacked Kayla on the rear and walked away as he approached.

"Hey," he greeted Kayla.

"Hey." Her voice was barely audible, her eyes pointed downward.

"Honestly, I didn't think you'd be here."

"Neither did I, but I have a very stubborn bunkmate." Kayla waved at Jocelyn who waved back enthusiastically. Deeks tweaked his eyebrow, but continued with Kayla.

"What happened yesterday?"

"I don't know...I just choked, I guess."

"Happen often?"

"Anytime I get in the ring." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Deeks thought for a moment before responding. "Then we won't get in the ring."

She looked up, surprised. "What will we do?"

"Follow me."

He led her over to a hanging bag and gave her a significant look.

"What?" She asked.

"Punch it."

She hesitated before throwing a weak punch.

"My dead grandmother can throw a better punch. Hit it!"

Kayla tried again.

"Nope. Make a fist, and hit that bag as hard as you can!" Kayla reeled her fist in and let it go. The bag barely budged, making a weak thump.

"I think that may have been worse," Deeks tried not to laugh. "Seriously, what are you afraid of? Because whatever it is, you're never going to beat it like that."

Kayla whirled on him, fire in her eyes, the first emotion besides fear he had ever seen her show. Pulling back her arm, she slammed her fist into his jaw.

"Okay, not quite what I had in mind," he mused, picking himself off of the floor. Kayla was already halfway to the door, but he ran after her. "Miles, wait!" He called after her.

The running path was too far, she wouldn't make it before Deeks found her. Kayla's only hope was to slide into a nearby cluster of bushes. Knees to chest, she tucked her head in and sobbed.

Marty chased Kayla out, but she somehow dropped out of sight. "Miles!" He spun around, barely catching a glimpse of blue through the trees. Deeks squatted in the opening, eyebrow raised. "Miles?"

The blonde wiped her eyes and peeked up. "Hi."

"Miles, that was amazing! You actually threw a hit!"

Kayla sniffled. "I was mad."

"So what?"

"I promised myself I'd never punch anyone because I was mad."

Deeks remembered what it had felt like to be punched in anger. The pain still lingered. His father had abused him all those years ago, and it still stung to remember—but Kayla's pain was more acute. It was clear something haunted her, it just wasn't him.

"Sometimes, you just need to channel that hate properly. Like it or not, you have to pass these quals. I'm no stranger to anger and what it does to you, but you need to get stronger, and I can help. Of course, you'll have to do everything I say..." he trailed off.

"Fine, but I will not sleep with you." She poked his chest.

Deeks was so shocked by her admission, he couldn't tell if she was kidding or not.

"What makes you think sleeping with me is part of the deal?"

"I may not be very talkative, but I have eyes and ears to know that you have slept with half of my barracks. I will not be a one-night stand."

"Deal. Besides, you're not my type."

"Honey, I'm so spectacular, they're still trying to name a type after me." It was something her mother used to say. It was also the most confident thing Deeks had ever heard her say.

Unable to hold it in, a laugh burst from Marty's mouth. Kayla joined in, a raw but surprisingly genuine sound.

"Want to go kick that punching bag's ass?"

"I think I've had enough for today," she grinned. The expression lit up her eyes.

"You should do that more often."

"Do what?" She was confused.

"Smile."

"Can't; my face has a strict no-smile policy. It will crack if I smile more than twice a year."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes, the doctor told me it's pretty serious."

"Any cure?"

"None that I'm aware of, but I'm still looking."

The smile spread from ear to ear. Her body, tightly wound around itself before, had relaxed into a sitting position. Legs crossed, an elbow on each knee, she regarded him silently.

_Have I really just made two friends in a week?_

Marty watched her smile slide from view. A shadow crossed her brow and he could tell had fallen back into her own thoughts. She actually was pretty cool underneath her scared exterior, and he was determined to see more.

* * *

"Today, we punch the bag."

Deeks stood wrapped his arms around the large black bag, grinning encouragingly.

"I don't know, Deeks."

"C'mon. Just punch it."

"I don't want to."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I—" she stopped herself.

"You know what? You don't have to tell me. Just picture whatever is messing with you, and punch it."

Kayla took a deep breath, picturing the face of her nightmares, before hitting the bag. She barely made a dent in the bag, but yelped. Cradling her hand, she looked up at him.

"Not bad. Hit it again."

_Punch_. _Yelp_.

"Again."

_Punch_. _Yelp_.

"Again."

_Punch, punch_. _Yelp_.

"Again."

Punch. She could see him now. The sheriff, beer in one hand, the other forming a fist. The imaginary fist rose in the air. Kayla swung back.

_Punch_.

_Punch_. The face on the bag laughed at her, reached for her, laughing. _You're worthless, you're nothing. You belong to me._

_Punch_.

The bag began to swing; Deeks steadied it for her. She hit the bag, again and again. Her face turned pink from the exertion. Her eyes were focused on the bag. The pattern went on; yelping slowed, breathing deepened. Breaths turned to gasps. Deeks caught her fist with his hand.

"Enough, enough," he laughed, surprised.

Kayla leaned forward, dizzy, resting her forehead on his chest.

"You still with me?" Deeks asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, yeah," she breathed, zoned out. Her eyes were unfocused; she wavered on her feet.

Deeks took her face in his hands. "Hey, hey, stay with me!"

Kayla's green eyes concentrated on Deeks's blue ones. "That felt kind of good," she sighed finally.

"Holding it in much?" he asked, releasing her. "What was going through your head?"

"Yeah…" she laughed. "I don't trust you enough for that."

* * *

It didn't take long for Kayla to discover that days pass faster with friends. She passed the time hanging out with Jocelyn while the training sessions with Deeks progressed. She had yet to figure out how such cool people would stoop to befriend her, but she fought the instinct to run. Even Deeks, the guy she feared at first, had an uncanny ability to get below her defenses and talk on a deeper level.

He was a bit of a paradox to her. On one side, he was this happy-go-lucky joker who loved the ladies, but his other side was a genuinely good guy. He was a good listener, sympathetic and honest. Often, he covered this with a joke. This only added to his charm. After observing him with other girls, she discerned that he only acted this way around her.

Jocelyn did her part to help Kayla. Besides making sure the waif ate hearty meals, she taught Kayla how to a girl. Jocelyn chopped off Kayla's dead split ends and showed her how to groom herself.

"There," Jocelyn sighed, putting the final touches on her masterpiece. "No, wait," she interrupted herself, dotting a bit more bronzer on Kayla's cheeks. "Done."

Kayla turned to look in the mirror. Her jaw dropped as she gasped. She hardly recognized herself. The scraggly hair, once full of split ends, had been chopped to mid-arm. The change instantly made her hair healthier, and new shampoo, made every strand shine. Her eyebrows were similarly tamed, instantly brightening her face. She looked cleaner, her once sunburnt skin now healthily tanned due to her introduction to lotion and a tiny bit of powder to even her complexion.

"Wow."

"Damn straight," Jocelyn laughed. "Didn't your mom ever teach you to take care of yourself?"

Kayla's face fell. "My mom died when I was ten."

"Crap." Jocelyn blushed. "I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you."

"What about your dad?"

"He's...not exactly the nurturing type."

"How so?"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

Jocelyn knew when to drop a subject, so she let it slide. "Well, now you've got me to teach you how to take care of yourself."

The bell rang for dinner, and the two girls ran for the mess hall.

They slid into their table, across from Deeks.

"How do you like my handiwork?" Jocelyn asked, motioning at Kayla.

He stared for a moment. "Are you sure that's Kayla?"

The girl in question socked him in the arm, grinning.

"Oh, yeah, that's her," he grimaced. He reached out to touch her hair.

"What?" Kayla raised her eyebrow.

"It's like you're a caterpillar who just shed its cocoon. Kayla, you're-dare I say it-hot!"

"Shut up," she blushed. "It's not that big of a deal. Besides, it's all Jocelyn's work."

"Honey, it's a big deal. You don't look like a 12-year-old waif. Accept the compliment."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'll take it."

"But it's mine!" Kayla grabbed Marty's hand, mock-grabbing said compliment. "Mwahahaha."

"Wow, it's already gone to her head." Marty turned to Jocelyn. "Congratulations on a job well done."

"Thank you," Jocelyn said pointedly.

"Fine," Kayla laughed. "If you won't play nice, then I'll just go away."

With that, she walked over to the drink station. Marty noticed a marked difference in her walk, as if she was discovering that she could, indeed, walk like a lady.

Jocelyn gasped. "Are you checking her out?"

He quickly averted his gaze. "What? No. I was just admiring your work."

"Deeks, that butt is your work. You did the toning, I did the primping."

"I wasn't looking at her butt."

"You can lie all you want, but I know what it looks like when a guy sees something he likes."

"I'm not even sure she's straight."

Jocelyn burst out laughing. "Not sure she's straight?"

"I just mean, have you ever seen her come on to a guy?"

"You mean, come on to you?"

"No."

"Because you're the epitome of everything sexy and manly?"

"You said it, not me," he smirked.

"Let's take that theory and run with it. Have you ever seen her come on to a girl?"

"Not exactly, but she's so much more relaxed when you're around."

Jocelyn took a more serious tone. "I'm pretty sure she's straight, but I don't think she's ready for anything in that department. I have a theory."

"Do tell." He leaned in closer.

"I think her dad messed with her."

"What makes you say that?"

"She refuses to talk about him, and anytime we talk about cute boys, she gets all quiet."

"That doesn't make sense; her dad's a sheriff."

"Sheriff or not, that man messed her up but good."

"Whatcha talking about?" Kayla inquired, plopping down on the bench.

"You,"Deeks grinned wickedly.

Kayla tucked her hair behind her ear. "Get over it, guys! It's not that big of a difference!" She referred to her makeover.

"It's a huge difference," Deeks insisted. You're going to have every guy in the place wanting you."

Kayla looked around frantically. She could suddenly feel the men's' gaze on her back. She felt naked. Unbidden, the picture of them touching her came to mind, then morphed just as quickly into the shape of her father, leaning over her, tearing her clothes off.

She shuddered visibly, and Marty placed a hand on her back. It was harmless, a gesture meant to calm her, but the sensation had the opposite effect. She lunged away, falling off the bench. Deeks was quick on his feet to help her up, but she backed away clumsily.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled, attracting the attention of more than a few cadets. She clamoured to her feet and bolted from the mess hall, Marty on her heels.


	3. Chapter 3

This time, Marty knew where to find her. He made a beeline for the jogging path, sprinting flat out. She was ahead of him, but he cut through a curve in the trail, landing in front of her. She tried to run around him, but he wrapped his arms around her and held tight.

"Let me go!" She yelled, struggling against him.

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

She struggled a few moments long, but then went still. Her muscles were taught as he slowly released his grip.

"Kayla," he breathed, "what is going on?"

She sat on a nearby rock, gasping for breath.

"I just don't like to be touched."

"Why?"

"I just don't!" she exclaimed forcefully.

"What is your issue with fighting anyway? I mean, you're at the police academy!"

Kayla hung her head low, allowing her hair to obscure her face. "It wasn't exactly my choice. My dad is an LAPD sheriff, and I'm the son he never had. I sort of had no choice."

"That doesn't explain the aversion to fighting."

"Yeah—my dad is sort of violent."

"Hey now, what?" He knitted his eyebrows together and lowered himself to sit next to her. He had his suspicions.

"Look, I don't like to talk about it." She turned away.

Deeks didn't know which was worse: the abuse or the fact that the statement was in present tense. He wanted to wrap her up and hold her until she was safe again. "Kaye..."

"It's fine." She brushed it off. "But he didn't just hit me."

The meaning of her words sunk in, and he put his arms around her, pulling her in. She twitched upon contact, but relaxed into his chest.

"But your dad's a sheriff!"

"Yeah," she sighed, her eyes welling up. "When mom died, he started drinking off duty-a lot. I look like my mom, and he hates that. The only reason I'm here is because it's my only chance to make him happy."

"Why didn't you stand up to him? Why didn't you fight back?"

Kayla stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Everyone I have ever told about this asks me that same question. Have you ever hurt someone close to you? I mean physically."

It was Deeks's turn to look away. "I shot my dad."

"Say what now?"

"I would appreciate it if someone didn't say that as their first reaction."

"No, I'm sorry, I'm just surprised! Can I ask why?"

"My dad was abusive too. One day, it got too much to take. My best friend lent me his gun, and I shot him. He didn't die; I just…maimed him a bit." He grinned crookedly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Is it okay if I find that last bit a little funny?"

Deeks gave her a hint of a smile. "Maybe a little. He's gone now; he died in a car crash."

"How old were you?"

"Eleven."

"So, we're both a little scarred." Kayla smiled sadly. She hesitated before continuing. "How did you get the courage?"

"The courage for what?" Deeks knit his eyebrows together.

"To stand up! How did you change the pattern of abuse?"

Deeks took a beat to think. "I had enough."

"I've had enough, that doesn't mean I've done anything. This is the freest I've been since my mom died. I'm going to go home a cop, but nothing is going to change."

Taking her head in his hands, he looked straight into her amber eyes. "Listen to me: you're stronger than you think you are, and you have something you didn't have before: me." He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close. "And I'm not going anywhere.".

Kayla had never been one to cry, but she felt so safe. When attacked, Kayla was trained to shut down and take it. When threatened, or scared, Kayla could stare fear in the eye. Show no weakness.

But this, this was different. Instead if the familiar knot in her chest, she had never breathed easier. Tears leaked from her eyes. She didn't bawl or weep, but silently released the stress and tension of her horrible years. No one had held her like this since her mother. Even more miraculous was the knowledge that this peace was found in the arms of a man. Her fear of the opposite sex was no less real, but Marty had restored her faith that there were decent men out there.

She sniffled, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, and sat up slowly. "We should probably get back."

"Only if you're ready," he whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

She smiled. Her eyes were still rimmed with red. "Ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

From then on, the two carried an unspoken bond. Even Jocelyn could see the difference in her friend. Kayla thrived, growing healthier and stronger each day. No longer skin and bones, she had muscle definition for the first time in years. Her eyes, once gaunt and dull, now sparkled with humor and life—even without the help of Jocelyn's eyeshadows.

Kayla improved under Marty's tutelage, and eventually, they moved from the bag to the lower mat, and, finally, to the ring.

"So, how do we do this?"

"Well, you grab me," Deeks mimed, placing her hands on his shoulders, "and then we try to throw the other to the ground."

"Okay…"

Kayla leaned against the ropes, Deeks across the way. She fidgeted the wrapping on her knuckle, wishing she could dig a hole and hide.

"Woohoo! C'mon, Kayla!" Jocelyn cheered from the sidelines.

"Not helping, Joce!" Kayla replied through gritted teeth.

"Come on," Deeks encouraged. His eyes were kind as he flashed a smile.

How are his teeth so perfect?

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Psh," she scoffed. "Prepare to eat mat."

"Unlikely."

"Come on. I'll be gentle."

"Okay."

She took two steps forward, hesitated, and took two steps back.

"You can do this," Deeks pushed.

"You got this, Kaye!" Joce reinforced.

"If you say so," she trailed off.

Taking a deep breath, Kayla took a running start, arms extended. Deeks grabbed her arms upon impact and flipped her to the floor.

"Oww…"

"And she's down for the count!" Jocelyn whooped.

"Next time, don't shut your eyes," Deeks smirked down at Kayla, offering his hand.

"Shut up, jackass," she grunted, climbing to her feet.

* * *

Both Deeks and Kayla understood that they were not viable romantic interests for the other. Kayla understood that Deeks was out of her league, and Deeks considered Kayla too unattractive for his attentions—at the beginning. As the friendship progressed, she graduated to the equivalent of 'one of the guys'. He never acknowledged it, but he no longer thought of her as unattractive; she was beautiful in her own way.

Kayla was fond of Deeks in her own right. She was careful never to entertain the slightest possibility of them as a couple, careful not to fall for the playboy. Still, her dreams unfairly illustrated their chemistry on a higher level. The morning call would find Kayla starry eyed, all warm and gooey inside. The feeling would be forced back, leaving her focused for the day, all romantic thoughts pushed from her mind. Kayla might not have acknowledged it, were it not for Jocelyn's incessant pestering.

"I think I might ask Deeks out." Jocelyn pondered as the two girls straightened their things.

"What now?" Kayla stood so fast, she hit her head on the top bunk.

"He's hot, I'm hot, it makes sense!" She shot a sideways glance at her friend.

"I don't know; I don't think your egos could fit in the same room."

"We've managed so far."

"Joce, he's slept with half the barracks already."

"I've slept with half the guys," she pointed out.

Kayla laughed. "Yes, because you're a whore."

"And I am so proud of it!"

"So, what are you going to do? Ask him out? Dinner, sex, then you break his heart?"

"His heart would hardly break, he's usually the one doing the dumping. The only thing broken would be his pride—and honey, that might need a little breaking."

"Come on, Joce, he's a decent guy. No need to mess with him."

"Girl, that man is like Casanova; he never met a woman he didn't love."

"So if he already loves you, why do you need to go out with him?"

"Look, if you have a problem with this, just say so!"

"Why would I have a problem with you going out with Marty?"

"Because you're in love with him!"

"Me? Deeks? Love? No, no, no, no, no," Kayla sputtered, caught off guard at the thought. The late night dreams flashed through her mind, but she shook them away. "No."

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much!" Jocelyn sang, bopping Kayla on the head with her pillow.

"I hadn't even considered it!"

"And now that you have?" Jocelyn smirked.

"I…No." Kayla shook her head bashfully. "He's out of my league besides!"

"He decides who is in and out of his league, not you. Grow a pair and admit you like him!"

"Shut up," Kayla muttered.

"What was that?"

"Drop it!"

Jocelyn pouted. "Fine. But this doesn't let you off the hook."


	4. Chapter 4

"Get in the ring, idiot."

Kayla vaulted the ropes, a stark contrast to her first day with Deeks. Months had passed; qualifications were right around the corner.

They danced around each other for a few minutes, using basic grappling techniques. Both had become so advanced that neither could get a grip on the other for very long. Then, with a flip of a wrist, Kayla sent Deeks flying to the floor. He tried to get up, but she rolled him over, straddling his waist. He flailed his arms, trying to get a good grip, but she pinned them on either side of his head. Their faces were inches apart, and for the first time, both of them felt the electricity they had been suppressing.

Deeks snapped out of it first. A mischievous glint in his eye, he swung his hips to roll over on top of her. She hit the mat hard, panting. He smiled, laughing at her. She swatted at his face comically, but he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head.

He couldn't remember how many times he had been in this same position with his conquests, but looking down at her, breath shallow, eyes trusting, was all so different. He paused, just drinking her in.

"Deeks?"

He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and collapsed on top of her, laughing to lighten the mood.

"Oof." Kayla tried to lift him off of her. "Deeks, you're fat."

The blonde boxer rolled off her. "Honey, this body is pure muscle."

The two of them lay there for what seemed like hours, trying to understand what had just happened. In the same instant, they felt the magnetic pull between them; there was no denying the feeling now. But how to move forward?

"So," Kayla spoke, panting for air. "Do you have a date for tonight?"

He stared at the ceiling, his mind still racing. "No. You?"

"In the entire time you've known me, have I ever had a date?"

Rolling his head to the side, he gawked. "Are you telling me that no one has noticed you?"

"Not a one. I think I scare them off." She turned to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure you're not running from them?"

Kayla dropped her fist on his gut. "_No,_ I'm just not interested in them."

"Have any girls noticed you?"

"Still thinking I swing the other way?"

Marty clenched his eyes shut, embarrassed. "Did Jocelyn tell you that?"

"Maybe," she grinned. "And to answer your question, no. I'm straight as they come."

"Good to know," he grunted, sitting up.

Kayla mimicked him, kneeling in the ring. "Do you want to do something tonight?"

Marty didn't know how to respond. "Are you asking me out?"

"No, idiot, just go for a hike. Jocelyn's coming. I figure, you're going to be lonely tonight without female _companionship_; we can at least have some fun."

He thought about it for a moment. "I'm in."

* * *

"Joce, what do you mean you're not coming!"

"I'm not coming! I've got another date."

"So you're just _abandoning_ me? I need a buffer!"

"Since when have you and Deeks needed a buffer? I have no desire to be a third wheel!"

"But it's going to be _so_awkward."

"It was bound to happen. I knew that you'd fall in love with him."

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Okay, well, considering the fact that he's the only guy you allow to touch you _and_ you nearly kissed him today, I'm going with love."

Kayla growled in frustration, but Jocelyn only beamed. Marty appeared along the pathway, and Jocelyn hugged Kayla.

"Just have fun tonight, okay?"

"I hate you."

Jocelyn skipped away.

"What was that?" Deeks asked.

He was in wearing jeans and a plaid button-up, his hair styled to look perfectly imperfect. Kayla swallowed the drool, blocked off the offending thought pattern, and smiled.

"She's bailing on us."

"Really? That bitch!"

"I know, right?"

Marty clapped his hands. "So, where are we going?"

"Start driving and I'll let you know."

He showed her to his vehicle, a red muscle car that had clearly seen better days.

"Is this yours?"

"Yeah, this is Chandra."

"Chandra?"

"What? Every man's car needs to have a name!"

"But Chandra? I pegged you for more of a Tammi with an I."

Deeks stroked the dashboard. "Don't you listen to her, Chandra. I still love you."

Kayla adjusted her seat, the gears squeaking into position. "She's got personality, I'll give you that."

"I'll take you where you want to go, but you are forbidden from insulting Chandra. Now, apologize."

She laughed. "Apologize?"

Deeks locked the car on the inside. "We're staying here until you apologize."

Kayla hugged the dashboard dramatically. "Chandra, I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart."

"Okay. I don't appreciate the sarcasm, but it'll do." He started up the engine.

The drive was a short one, maybe fifteen minutes. It took five of those to relax Kayla; so natural was their interaction. They laughed, listened to music, and sang along as the summer breeze blasted Kayla's hair this way and that.

Marty glanced over as she tried to tame her locks. A slight smile played on his lips. She looked majestic, even, her head thrown back in laughter, eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

"Pull a right," she waked him from his reverie.

He swerved to comply, and found himself in a small clearing.

"Where are we?"

"This way," she replied mysteriously.

They stepped into the high grass and, not ten feet in, the field opened up into a large lake. The sun began lowering itself to rest. The waves of grass glowed amber in the sunset.

"What is this place?"

"Beautiful, isn't it? I found this on one of my runs."

"Wait-you ran all the way here?"

"Six miles each way. It's not that bad."

"I'm just glad you let me drive."

Kayla smiled. "I knew you couldn't run that far."

"I could do it if I wanted to!"

"That would mean putting out some effort."

"Psh, I can make an effort. I trained you, didn't I? That was a ton of work."

"Yes, I'm such a problem student."

"Hey! It was a lot of work just getting you to throw a punch!"

"That was the easy part! All you had to do was act like a total jackass. You didn't even have to try!"

"So, what do you do when you come here, anyway?"

"Sit, breathe, watch the sunset." She noticed Deeks grimace out of the corner of her eye.

"Well, I brought some beer."

Kayla rolled her eyes. "Why am not surprised?"

"Oh, so you don't want any?"

"I'll take one, but only if you agree to enjoy the sunset with me."

"Deal."

He came back from the car with two drinks. They were mysteriously cold, as if Deeks had preplanned it. They clinked bottles and sat back against a rock, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Orange, red, purple, and blue flooded the sky. The open field was awash in color.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Shh!"

Marty opened his mouth to retort, but was left speechless by the light on Kayla's face. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her face reflected the glow. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned.

"What?"

"I've never seen you so content."

She shifted on the grass and took a sip of her beer. "This place is just so calming; like there's nowhere else in the world. The people and places outside of this little lake don't exist."

The sun disappeared, leaving behind a faint glow of burnt orange across the sky. Kayla was barely a silhouette to Marty. He hopped up and took his shirt off.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Kayla was appalled.

"Going for a swim!" He stripped off his pants.

"Marty Deeks, if you take one more article of clothing off, I'm going to scream!"

"Seriously? You've never been skinny dipping?"

"No." Her face registered shock at the mere suggestion.

"Well, there's a first time for everything." His eyes glinted mischievously.

"If you think for once second that I'm stripping down to my birthday suit in front of you, think again."

"What? I can barely see you."

"No."

"Kaye, live a little."

She shifted on her feet, squinting to see just how much of her body might be visible. "Fine, I'll go swimming."

He tucked his thumbs into his boxer shorts, but she squealed.

"No skinny dipping! I'll strip to my underwear, but no nudity!"

"Aw, come on!"

"My sanctuary, my rules!"

"_Fine._" He tested the water before dousing himself.

Kayla may have agreed, but the idea of taking her clothes off in front of a guy, even a guy she trusted as much as Deeks, scared her.

"Come on! The water's great!"

She swallowed her doubts and fears and ripped off her shirt. The night was unseasonably chilly for May, she shivered on the lake's edge.

"You'll be warmer in here!"

In a final effort, she kicked off her Chuck Taylors and shorts. She hovered at the edge of the water for a moment, testing the temperature. Marty's smile faded as he saw her for what felt like the first time. It was a shock, seeing her outside of her usual PT's. He hadn't realized just how toned she really was. Her legs were strong from frequent runs, her abs well defined in the sunset's shadows. Deeks usually favored voluptuous women, but his quickening heartbeat reminded him that his preferences were not set in stone.

_Splash!_ Kayla swam up next to him.

"Okay, so we're near nude. What now?"

Deeks flashed a wolfish grin. "Well…"

"No!" Kayla backstroked just out of reach. "Get your filthy mind away from me!"

"You made that conclusion on your own, darling."

"But you were thinking it, weren't you?" she replied coyly, dodging his arm.

"That depends on your definition of 'it'." He moved in closer.

"You're hopeless!" Kayla waved her hand at him, accidentally splashing Deeks across the face. He froze. Kayla's mouth dropped as she realized she was in for it.

"Oh, is that how it is?" he laughed.

A wave of water splashed her across the face, and she retaliated with a lunge, ultimately ducking him under the water. He fought free and faced her mischief spread over his lips.

"What, did I mess up your hair?"

Kayla tried to dodge, but was too late. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her under. The blonde kicked and tugged, unable to free herself until Marty came up for air. Together, they gasped for breath, laughing. It took them a few moments to realize that Marty's arms were still around her waist…and hers encircled his neck. They held each other's gaze, silently wishing that someone would inch forward just enough…

A shiver ran, unbidden, down Kayla's back, shocking them both into reality.

"I'm going ashore," she spoke abruptly, shoving away from and equally shocked Marty.

Once on the grass, Kayla was desperate to find a covering. She grabbed her shirt, toweling herself off, as Marty emerged, dripping, from the lake.

_Oh,_ _crap_, she thought as she beheld his half-naked body. The muscles gleamed in the fading light; she could barely make out details, but the silhouette was stunning. He shook his hair, droplets of water cascading down his face.

She was drooling.

"Hey," he woke her from her thoughts. "I'll grab a couple blankets from the car."

"You really think of everything, don't you?"

"I like to be prepared for a rainy day."

"Or a date-do I even want to touch these blankets?" she called as he disappeared into the grass.

"Calm down, calm down, I wash them after each use." He reappeared, holding three blankets.

She grimaced. "Gross."

As he laid the blankets on the ground, he looked over at her shivering form. "What do you think happens on a date, anyway?"

"You're going to act all innocent?"

"You are aware that dates do not equal sex. Have you ever been on a date?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"I've had a boyfriend, thank you very much," Kayla replied adamantly.

"Oh? When was this?"

Already, Kayla regretted bringing up Todd. He had used her shamelessly for sex, then had cheated on her with a cheerleader. Too naïve to know better, Kayla had believed him when he said it was her fault. "I was fifteen, he was eighteen."

"How soon after did he take your virginity?" Marty smirked, but Kayla avoided his eyes.

"He didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"He didn't take my virginity."

"So you never slept with him?"

"No."

"I'm confused."

Dipping her head down low, Kayla allowed her damp hair to hide her face. "I lost my virginity when I was nine."

He blinked twice. "Nine?"

"You heard me. My father's had me on the pill since puberty."

"Oh, Kaye…" The truth dawned on him. Her father was more than abusive; he was a statutory rapist. Marty wrapped his arm around her, but she only shook her head.

"I've spent too much time crying over dad and Todd. For the first time, I feel like I can put that behind me. I've got friends—real ones."

"Are you insinuating that your friends were imaginary?"

Kayla laughed, shrugging off the dark mood of the evening. "My friends were Evanescence and Blink 182."

"Oh, so you were an emo child. I totally had you pegged for a Backstreet Boys fan."

"Hah. I'd slit my emo wrists first."

"So, can you sing?"

She blushed. "Not in public."

"Do I count as public?"

"Hell, yes."

"Even as your personal, close, real friend?"

"I will not sing for you."

"Why?"

"My music teacher in school told me my voice sounded like I smoke a pack a day."

"Smoking can be sexy. When do I get to hear that voice?"

"Not in this lifetime, idiot." She shoved him lightly.

"So what did you do for fun?"

"Paintball."

Marty's jaw dropped. "Wow! The little emo chick has a wild side!"

"Shut up! I passed a paintball range on the way back from school every day. It was like having friends without threatening them or me."

"Threatening them?"

"If dad found out I had friends, he'd go after them."

"Ah."

"I gave a fake name and always wore a mask."

"Were you any good?"

"I wasn't too bad."

"What was your specialty?"

"Sniper. I could hide up in any turret and hit anyone in sight."

"I bet that made you pretty popular."

"With the team that picked me." Her face lit up, remembering. "For once, I was liked, wanted. No personal information, no details—it was perfect."

"You know, you're liked here, too." Marty nudged her and she sighed up at the night sky.

"Enough about me! What did you do for fun?"

"Oh, I made a lot of trouble." Kayla couldn't see his face, but in her mind, he flashed that signature wolfish grin.

"I bet you did."

"This one time, my friend Randy and I broke into the community pool at midnight. We threw this huge party—beer, shots, bikinis—it lasted for maybe an hour before the cops broke it up. They chased us for miles, but we ran up into the hills. The cops staked us out; they knew it was us, but they had no proof. We waited in the field and snuck past them during shift change."

"Wow," Kayla looked at him. "That is so lame."

"As if you could top it!"

"I just thought you'd have crazy stories about chicks and…other stuff."

"Other stuff. After I shot my dad, I decided I wanted to be a cop. I had to cut back on the insanity."

"By what? Half a percent?"

"Well, a man has to keep up his reputation."

"I'm sorry, but it just doesn't make sense. Why would you want to be a cop? You hate rules and regulations."

"But I really, really hate bad guys."

"So you signed up to be the arm of justice?"

"Yeah, I'm not the sort for underwear over my superhero tights. My superhero suit was actually a suit."

"An actual suit?" Kayla chuckled. "Who are you, Clark Kent?"

"Sort of; my lawyer job was definitely my mild-mannered alter ego."

"Your real self is far from mild-mannered. How the hell did you end up as a lawyer?"

He sighed. "It's a long story."

Kayla scooted closer, propping herself up on one elbow. "I've got time."

"Okay, well, you know I shot my dad when I was 11, right?"

"Right."

"Well, afterwards, I was picked up by Child Protective Services. After a few duds, CPS managed to put me in a halfway decent foster home. I've never met a couple who loved each other more, and they managed to find it in their hearts to take care of me. They were older, but the dad was a lawyer. Somehow, he recognized that I wasn't the sort to live under parental guidance, so to speak. He managed to get me emancipated by 14. It took tons of hard work, but we both knew I wanted to protect kids from their parents. Family law seemed like the right way to go. He helped me finish school at 16, then I headed to UCLA. Somehow, I managed to get through without failing, where I headed to law school. Law school was really tough; my foster dad was really old and he couldn't help me as much. I had just passed the bar when he was shot by one of his clients. His wife died two weeks later."

"When was this?"

"About eight months ago."

"Where was your mom?"

He looked away. "She left when I was 10. Dad was horrible to her no matter how much I tried to protect her. Then, one night, she was gone. I'm glad she's safe, but I'm still pissed that she didn't take me with her."

Kayla reached out to touch his face tenderly, but didn't say anything. She held his hand as he continued.

"After that Dean and Marcy died, I didn't have the discipline to study law any more. I nearly got disbarred for erratic behavior, so I stopped practicing. The senior partner I worked with recommended a change of career. She was right; I was much better suited for police work. My contacts in the slums, my ability to blend, I never fit in that suit anyway. But here—it was like I found myself the moment they put the gun in my hand. I want to earn that badge and then fight bad guys with it."

Kayla smiled softly. "Can I ask what happened to your mom?"

"You sound like a three year old, fighting bad guys. Besides, I'm of the opinion that guys look sexier with a gun strapped to their hips than a suit. Suits have their allure and all that, but, for better or for worse, bad boys are my thing. Besides, Clark Kent always seemed like a goodie two-shoes to me. I'd say you're more of a Lone Ranger."

"Only if you'll be my Tonto," he growled suggestively.

"Eww, _Kimosabe_. Besides, it would be a crime to cover up that gorgeous face with a mask."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" He looked to Kayla.

She squinted in the moonlight; his eyes glowed eerily back at her. "I'd think a mask would protect you from all the women that want to punch you in the face."

"Would it have protected me from you?"

"Psh, my spiky knuckles would cut right through it."

"Yeah; what's with that, Wolverine?"

"The makeover isn't fooling anyone, is it?"

"I just mean, you aren't like any other woman out there," he backpedaled.

"You're not helping yourself, Deeks."

He exhaled. "You don't know how to take a compliment."

"Well, it is a rare occurrence."

"Then I'll just have to give you more practice." He lay down beside her. "How about this: you look pretty. You're smart. You have a mean right hook."

The blonde squeaked, doubled over in inaudible laughter. She rolled onto her side, and Marty propped himself on his elbow to face her.

"You're awesome. You're a good runner. You surprise me every day." It was a good thing it was dark; he could barely keep a straight face.

"Shut up, idiot."

Marty wheezed as she punched him in the gut. He returned to tickle her sides. "All you have to do is say 'thank you' and I'll stop!"

"Thank you, thank you!"

"See? Not that hard."

The twosome sighed, staring up at the stars one last time.

"We should probably get back."

Marty's face fell, but he stood, helping Kayla up. "Yeah. Do you think we'll get to come back? I need to convince you to go skinny dipping."

"You, sir, will _never_ see this body naked."

"Never is a strong word."

"I know how your twisted mind works: stripping leads to sex, and I refuse to be one of your conquests. I've been taken advantage of one too many times."

Deeks waited until they were in the car to respond. "I won't deny that I have the one-track mind of a red-blooded male, but you aren't about to be any man's conquest. Not anymore. You've come too far."

"And you'll respect that?"

"Sure." He started the car. "So will you come skinny dipping?"

"Not a chance in hell."


	5. Chapter 5

The day of qualifications arrived. Kayla, Deeks, and Jocelyn navigated their way through each test: guns, obstacle course, fitness, and many more. For Kayla, her combat qualification was during the last cycle of tests. Any time Marty noticed her shaking, all he had to do was lay a hand on her shoulder, and her breathing would subside. His eyes looked straight through her. _You can do this._

The fight was a blur. Even after training with Deeks, her fight or flight instincts were in high gear. She absorbed each hit like a pro, but her punches lacked conviction. A glance to the side, and she saw Jocelyn and Deeks cheering her on. The adrenaline in her brain shut out their cheers, but their faces gave her just enough confidence to sock her opponent in the gut, turn him around in a sleeper hold, and pin him to the ground. Just like that, it was over. Months of training, and it was over.

An hour later, both Marty and Jocelyn were done. Jocelyn met up with yet another one of her dates, but Kayla stayed behind with Marty, who was scouting the female cadets. Fear welled up in Kayla's stomach as she realized that she would return home tomorrow. She would see her father. Would things be different? Would he be proud of her? Would he-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a girl slapping Marty's face.

"Rejected again?" she laughed, fiddling with the tape on her hands.

"She's not my type anyway."

"Any female that breathes is you type. Why is it so important for you to plow through every girl in sight? It's like you throw them away."

"Hey!" he wagged his finger in her face. "None of these girls are throwaway. I love each and every one of them."

"Love? Who are you, Casanova? _Never met a girl he didn't love. _You love every girl you ever sleep with, but move to the next one heartlessly?"

"Not heartlessly! I just want to spread the love! Every girl is lovely in her own right."

"As sweet as that bullshit sounds, why does it sound like you don't know how to hold down a relationship?"

"My loving is so powerful, girls just get their fill."

"Or they just realize you're full of it."

"Funny," he smirked. "One day I'll hold a relationship. Right now, I just want to have fun."

Aaand that is why we'd never work out.

"Personally, I'm not interested in 'fun.'"

"Yeah," he scoffed, "that's why you're still single. Fun is exactly what you need."

"I have fun when I'm with you, and we don't have to partake in 'fun'." Air quotes to emphasize the point.

_I'd like to have fun with you_, Deeks smiled. He allowed himself a second to visualize the fantasy.

"And these girls understand that it's a one-night stand, and that it means nothing, right from the get-go?"

"Yeah!"

Kayla boxed him playfully on the jaw. "And you wonder why chicks are always mad at you."

"So, without a date, what are you going to do tonight?"

"I'm going to take you out on the town!"

Kayla coughed. "Say what now?"

"Have you left the barracks once since arriving here?"

"No," she responded.

"We need to celebrate!" he whooped.

"You do realize I'm not one of your party girls."

"And what does a party girl do?"

"Party girls have _fun_. A one-night stand voids our agreement. That voids our friendship, and upon graduation, that means I never speak to you again. And I really enjoy our friendship."

"Fine," he flashed a winning grin, "We will have a _fun_less night on the town." He raised his fist, and Kayla returned the fist bump.

"Then I'm in."

"Awesome. Because I need a drink."

"If that's the case, we're taking my car."

"The station wagon? Not a chance. We're taking Chandra."

"You know I can't drive stick."

"I'm going to pass on the obvious gutter humor and move straight to wondering how this applies."

"You're bound to get wasted, and I'll have to drive you home."

"I can_not_ ride up to the bar in a station wagon."

"Can you promise me you won't drink?"

He shrugged his shoulders, mulling it over. "No."

"Then we're taking the station wagon. Besides, the back seat lays down; you can pass out back there."

"Sold!"

* * *

The bar was packed with cadets celebrating their last night together as classmates. Deeks let out a loud whoop upon forcing his way through the door.

"The night is young, baby!"

"The night can't breathe," Kayla elbowed her way in.

He apologized, taking her hand to weave through the crowd. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact; she tripped in surprise.

"Barkeep!" he slammed the gleaming wood.

The poor bartender had his hands full mixing drinks and pouring beers, but he managed to slide two beers down the bar.

"To new beginnings!" Marty toasted.

"New beginnings," Kayla echoed. "So, what are your plans after the police academy?"

Deeks rolled his eyes, deep in thought. "Picking up chicks along with my bad guys."

"Eew."

"You're right, that sounded better in my head."

"I'll be laying down women after laying down the law."

Kayla squirmed. "Better, but not quite there."

"Ah, I'll let it slide."

"Good thought." She looked up at him from her glass. "Do you know what I think?"

"What?" He looked at her amusedly.

"I think that all this lothario stuff is just an act and that you're really a big romantic sap on the inside."

"Me? Romantic?" he laughed at her.

"You talk big, but you care."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Oh, yes. If you didn't care, why are you looking after me?"

"Because if anyone needs help, it's you."

"But it didn't have to be you. I mean, you're this lady killer, not a care in the world, and you picked me."

He sipped his beer. "You're different. When I met you, you seemed so fragile."

"Fragile?" she cut him off. "You're the only reason I'm standing today."

"You only seemed fragile. You're deceptively tough."

"I'm hardly tough; I've barely made it through the academy."

Deeks grinned impetuously. "You're stubborn, too."

"Don't get too worried; the moment I get home I'll go back to normal."

"No," he shook his head proudly. "I don't think you can go back. You're a bit too independent now."

"Great," she sighed grimly, thinking of what her father would do to her 'independence.'

"I think it's fantastic."

"Fantastic? I'm going to get beaten to a pulp!"

"You won't get beaten; I taught you how to defend yourself."

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You socked me in the jaw."

"Ah. Friends for life."

"Something like that." He finished his drink and hailed the bartender for a second. "So, if you _weren't _going into law enforcement, what would you do?"

"I think I'd be a chef."

"You? A chef? But you don't eat!"

"I used to!" Her eyes sparkled at the memory. "My mom was the greatest cook ever. Recipes, never written down, from the 'old country', the greatest cakes and pies, and she taught me every single one. The moment she got sick, she made me memorize every recipe."

"Sick?"

"Cancer."

"Shit, is every one of your memories messed up?"

Kayla smiled knowingly. "Maybe, but I prefer to dwell on the best. Do you know what I really want to do?"

"What?"

"I want to teach kids to cook—but not just teach them—I want to teach parents to cook with their kids, just like my mother did."

"I would have never taken you for a sap."

"Oh, you love it."

He really did love it. Shaking the thought off, he responded, "So, if you want this so much, why are you doing what your dad wants?"

"I'd rather be alive and unhappy than dead."

"Glad to hear suicide isn't an option."

"It's not that bad. Not yet."

"Not ever, if I have anything to do with it. You're a danger to yourself."

"Not as long as I have you to keep me laughing."

"You won't be getting rid of me." He meant it. In fact, he was surprised by how much he meant it.

Blush crept up Kayla's cheeks unbidden; took another sip to hide her face. She liked the thought of a man who would stay. She liked the thought of Marty being that man.

"So," he sighed, scanning the room. "Which lucky man's heart will you break tonight?"

"Oh, so I can add him to my long list of conquests?" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Don't be so cavalier."

"You know, some people actually think sex is special."

"Oh, it's special all right."

"Just because I haven't actually had _real_ sex doesn't mean I don't appreciate the idea."

"I appreciate real sex, too."

Kayla threw back her head in a full-bodied laugh. "So I've heard!" Her smile faded slowly. "I've had enough meaningless sex to last a lifetime. I'm not about to throw away one more night of my life."

"Well then, you're spending the night with me." He stopped as Kayla's face turned red. "Well, not _with_ me. Just with me."

"Got it." She rubbed his arm. "You're an idiot."

"I know."

Jocelyn danced up to them, clearly sloshed. "Aah!" she screamed, "It's the fearsome twosome!"

"And hello to you, too," Kayla couldn't resist laughing. "Do you want another drink?"

"I think she's had enough," Marty interjected. "Do you want to join us?"

"No!" she replied, brandishing a polaroid camera. "I just though we need to document!"

Kayla grabbed the girl by the shoulder to steady her. "What, so you can remember every stupid thing you do tonight?"

"No, silly," she gasped, "So we can remember who we were on this last night at the academy!"

"I think you'll be the one needing that help," Marty teased.

"Shut up and pose." She shoved Kayla and Marty together. "Put your arm around each other!"

They obeyed, but Jocelyn tripped drunkenly as she framed the shot. Her subjects collapsed in laughter just as the flash went off.

"Whoo!" Jocelyn cheered, regaining her balance. "Okay, Marty, get a shot of Kaye and I!"

He obliged, taking the camera. Jocelyn cozied up to Kayla, who smiled so wide, her face was in danger of cracking. He lingered, looking through the viewfinder. The orange light of the establishment reflected off of Kayla's cheeks. Jocelyn said something inappropriate and the girls dissolved in giggles.

"Ladies!" he called, getting their attention. The residual humor still read on their eyes, and he snapped the shot.

Jocelyn grabbed the film, shaking it. "Okay, suckers, I'm off to get laid!"

"Make good choices!" Kayla yelled after her as the girl disappeared into the crowd.

She looked at the photo on the bar. Marty glanced over her shoulder as they watched it develop. Out of the gray, their outlines appeared. The bright colors peeked through the darkness, illuminating their faces. Kayla smiled softly, taking in the scene. Her cheek was on Marty's arm as she tried to bury her face in his chest. He was glancing down at her, megawatt smile gleaming, those blue eyes sparkling with humor. As if in reflex, his arm wrapped around her, the front hand on her elbow.

It was the first time she had seen their chemistry. She had felt it before: that day on the running path, the moment in the ring, swimming in the lake, but actually seeing it sent a shiver down her spine. It scared her to death, and thrilled her at the same time. Falling for the player was strictly against every single boundary in her mind. But he was different with her.

_How different?_

"You okay?" he whispered in her ear.

Kayla jumped, shaking the thoughts out of her head like cobwebs. "Perfectly fine! Just a bit tired."

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"I thought the night was young," she teased.

"The night can be young elsewhere. It's a bit crowded, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Kayla stood, stuffing her wallet into her jeans.

"How about we go skinny dipping?"

"Never in a million years."


	6. Chapter 6

The station wagon, _Maude_, as Deeks had named her, chugged down the road. Kayla looked over at Marty. The blonde was quickly falling asleep to the soothing vibrations of the car. He looked so peaceful. _Too peaceful_, Kayla realized, as his soft breathing added to the calming noises of the night. Her eyelids slid shut, and she blinked, hard, forcing them open again. A few minutes passed, and it happened again. _BLINK._

"Marty," she whispered at her sleeping companion. "_Marty!"_

He twisted sleepily in his seat. "What?"

"I need you to help me stay awake."

He only mumbled something incoherently before closing his eyes again.

Kayla turned her face forward, focusing on the road ahead, but it blurred. Her eyelids felt so heavy; so, so heavy.

_POW!_

Both Marty and Kayla jerked up in their seats.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled, fully awake.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," was all Kayla could reply, leaping out of the car to check the tires.

"Kaye, what happened?"

"Shit."

"What?"

"We blew a tire."

"I thought you were supposed to be the safe driver," he smirked, joining her.

"Shut up, I need to think!"

He zipped his mouth shut and pretended to throw away the key, providing her with absolute silence.

Almost.

"Mmph, mphele, plumph!"

She turned to him annoyed. "Yes?"

Marty unzipped his mouth exaggeratedly. "Don't you have a spare?"

"Right," she replied determinedly.

Making her way to the trunk, she dug in the back for the donut spare, but her face fell at the sight of it.

"What's wrong?"

"It's deflated," she sighed, flopping down on the bumper dejectedly. "Now what?"

"Call for help?"

"I don't have a cell phone."

"But I do," he rummaged in his pocket. "Try this."

She flipped it open. "No bars," she groaned, throwing the phone at Marty. "No bars, we're stuck in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire, and we're graduating tomorrow."

"Hey," he soothed, joining her on the fender. She shivered in the California night. "We just need to find a signal."

Slipping off his jacket, he wrapped it around her quivering shoulders. Kayla glanced up at him in surprise.

He stood, offering his hand to her. "Come on. We're going signal hunting."

Kayla smiled in spite of herself, joining hands with him. It felt natural, yet foreign at the same time. Electricity surged from his fingertips, causing her to shiver again. She wondered if he felt it too.

They walked down the road together, Deeks waving the phone in the air to no avail. Kayla laughed at his antics, squeezing his arm for warmth.

"I don't think anything's coming, Marty."

"Your negative energy isn't helping, Kaye."

"Seriously?" she asked, "There's no signal, no one's coming, and it looks like it's going to rain."

He jumped up and down, as if height would help the signal. "Must! Find! Signal!"

Even in the dark, she could see the clouds were mounting towards them. "We need to get inside."

Marty banged his phone against his hand, glancing up at her. "Psh, it won't rain."

As if in answer, the clouds released their contents, pouring angry drops on the twosome's head. Kayla laughed in spite of the cold, pulling Marty's coat closer to her. They became more drenched by the second. His teeth glowed eerily in the night as he smiled, droplets running down his face.

Kayla shivered, and he wrapped her up in his arms. "Now can we get inside?"

"Where?" he squinted into the night, trying to find shelter.

"How about the car?"

The station wagon sat about half a mile down the road. Marty squeezed her shoulders, and they turned together toward the car.

"Race you?" he challenged.

"You're on!"

The two friends bolted down the road as best as their rain soaked clothes would let them. Kayla halted for a moment to slip off her heels, but Marty's sneakers sloshed comically down the homestretch. Kayla beat him, barefoot, slamming her hand against the car.

"So, we're spending the night in Maude?"

"You make it sound dirty when you say it like that."

"Okay, but we may have to strip to share body heat."

"What is your fascination with nudity?"

"I'm a man."

"I can't even begin to describe how weird it is to hear you talk like that."

"You're adorable when you're mad."

"Shut up." Kayla moved around to the trunk, flattening the back seat and pulling out a stack of fleece blankets and quilts.

"What am I supposed to insinuate from this preparedness?"

"You should _insinuate_ that I sometimes sleep in my car to avoid my father."

"Oh." He blinked, but Kayla saved him the awkwardness by sliding into the makeshift bed. Marty couldn't help but appreciate the curvature of her butt as she climbed over the fender.

As she felt his eyes on him, she laughed. "Quit looking at my ass!"

"I wasn't!" his voice cracked.

"Come on," she patted the seat next to her. "You're getting drenched out there."

He obliged, his shoes squeaking in response.

"Take off your shoes," she ordered.

They sat together in the backseat, the cushions quickly soaking from their wet clothing. Kayla squirmed, trying to get comfortable, but the California night was cold, and her jeans chafed against her skin.

She sighed. "I can't believe I'm saying this—" she closed her eyes slowly, "—but I think we should take these wet clothes off."

"Ha!" he barked, "You _do_ want to see me naked!"

"Hold your horses, lover boy; we're keeping our underwear on."

"Do we get to snuggle?"

Kayla smiled in spite of herself. "Shut up and strip."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that."

"I'm guessing nothing I say will curb your gutter brain."

He grinned wolfishly. "Not a chance, baby."

A few cramped moments, and they were free of the constricting clothing. Kayla attempted to conserve her personal space, but, even with two fleece blankets, she continued to shiver. Marty could barely make her shape out in the dark, but he could hear her body shaking and her teeth chattering.

"Kaye," he said softly, "Get over here."

"No."

Minutes ticked by slowly, but the sound of her discomfort only made Marty more concerned for her.

"Kaye," he started.

"No," she snapped.

"If you don't get over here, I'm going force you."

"Don't touch me."

"Kaye," his voice grew firm. "Don't start that again. You know you can trust me."

The moonlight lit up her frightened eyes, but she slid over to him. He couldn't tell if she was shaking from cold or fear, but her stiff body relaxed slowly in his arms. Kayla's breathing was thread as she rested her cheek against his chest. The rhythm quickened as skin contacted skin, but the warmth and soft beat calmed her. He sensed her calm and kissed the top of her head. She sighed, relaxing, the heat of her breath searing his skin.

Time crawled, along with Marty's skin. Even though the shared body heat expelled the chill, the sexual tension between the two only made the silence more painful. He had never been this close to a woman he had never slept with—without the intent of sex. As he adjusted his arms so they wouldn't fall asleep, he wished she was his. Though his mind endeavored to respect her wishes, his fingers stroked her back slowly. Kayla's breath hitched as she felt his fingers against the curve of her back. They ventured no further than mid-waist, and grazed her back just below the strap of her bra.

"Marty," she breathed, meeting his gaze.

Immediately, she regretted the action. His eyes, usually a deep and stormy blue, glinted black with lust. It scared her—and turned her on. One look into his eyes terrified her, thrilled her, and made her want him. The sensation was new. Sure, she had experienced sex before, but she had never, ever been turned on by the closeness of a man. She had no idea how to deal with these feelings. The proximity to the subject clouded her thoughts. Glancing away, she tried to compose herself.

"Kaye?"

She looked up begrudgingly, but there was no hiding her expression. Her eyes were tentative and trusting; he couldn't help leaning in, inching slowly toward her lips. He stopped himself, his lips lingering millimeters over hers. Breath intermingled. Kayla's eyes slipped closed as she allowed herself to experience the feeling. Gulping, she swallowed her fear along with the knot in her stomach. It took every ounce of courage to lift her chin those last two millimeters and meet his lips.

Her mind exploded; fireworks burst forth. This was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Every kiss until this point had been violent, the opponent tearing at her lips as if she was a beast, not even a woman. But this—this could only be described as wonderful. His lips moved on hers slowly, gently, even respectfully, for a moment before breaking away. Immediately, she felt lost. Every thought in her head was screaming at her to run away, but she felt so protected in his arms.

Marty's breathing quickened, separated from her mouth. He had started it by leaning in, but her reciprocation shocked him. He tried, desperately, to read her eyes. They were terrified, but trusting. He froze, waiting for any response, any reaction.

"Kaye…"

The sound of her name was jarring. Her eyes snapped to his.

"Promise me." The whisper was barely audible.

"What?" he asked. No matter how much he wanted this, he would never risk crossing the line.

"Promise me I'm not another conquest." Her voice was firmer.

"Kaye—" he choked on his words. "I would _never_ do that to you."

She blinked slowly, gathering her wits. "Okay."

"Are you sure?"

Nodding, she met his lips confidently.


	7. Chapter 7

The sunlight spilled over the horizon, sifting through the windows of the station wagon. Marty's eyes fluttered open as he became aware of his surroundings. The warm weight across his chest was pleasant; a few moments later, Kayla's naked body came into focus. It was all he could do not to beam. Shifting carefully, he kissed her shoulder gently.

She woke from the movement, looking up toward her companion.

_Companion?_

A strangled cry leapt from her throat as she shot across the car. Her eyes were wide and absolutely terrified.

"Kaye! Kaye, it's okay!" he reached out to hold her, but she shied away like his hands were iron pokers.

"Don't touch me!"

"Kaye, you need to think; remember what happened last night?"

To her horror, she noticed their mutual nudity. "What hap—" she interrupted herself. "Oh."

"Kaye?"

"Did we?" she motioned between the two of them.

"Yes."

The tension hung in the air. Silence unnerved the both of them. "Was it—good?"

Deeks failed to suppress a laugh. "Good? Heck yes."

"Can I have a blanket, please?"

He obliged and she wrapped herself in an effort to retain some modesty. She stared awkwardly across the backseat, not moving. A car buzzed past, jarring the silence.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Kayla gasped as she dug through the blankets for clothes.

"What?"

"Shut up, we have to get back to campus!"

She bounced around the trunk, sliding her jeans on. Marty laughed as she whacked her head against the ceiling.

"Make yourself helpful and call a tow!"

"Right." He obeyed, flipping out the phone, ecstatic to see the signal. "Look, bars!"

"Great!" sarcasm dripped from every word. "Make the call!"

Time passed slowly. They found it difficult to hold a conversation; Kayla avoided his eyes as the magnitude of last night. Finally, the truck rolled up.

Marty drummed on the cab's door. "Hey, my man, do you have a tire pump?"

"You don't want a tow?" the driver was confused.

"No; our spare just needs a fix-up."

"You know I can tow you so you can get a brand new tire."

"Yeah…," Marty drew the word out awkwardly. "We kind of need to get back…discreetly."

The driver looked the two of them over. He smirked knowingly at Kayla's mussed hair and Deeks' pronounced behead. "Got it."

"No, you don't got it," Deeks objected.

"You got a little something-something, didn't you?"

"No."

"Did this charmer pull the old back-of-the-car trick?"

Kayla stopped breathing for a second, and shot Marty a death glare. "Is that what it was?"

"No!"

"You say no a lot, sir," the driver laughed.

Kayla stomped off to pout against the car.

"Kaye, don't be like that!"

"Ooh, lover's spat." The truck driver was enjoying himself.

"Dude, just fix the car."

* * *

It took fifteen minutes to fix the spare and replace the tire, but the minutes crawled. Finally, they were on their way.

The drive passed in silence. Kayla refused to look at Deeks. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles turned white. He stared at her, puzzling, wondering how to get through to her. She had obviously shut down, a defense mechanism he had seen before. It was like steel doors slammed down in front of her eyes. Her body language was blank and tense, noncommittal and unmoving.

They rolled into the parking lot; the car jerked as she slammed it into park. Quick as a flash, she opened the door, moving to escape-but Marty was faster. He reached across her, slammed the door shut, and held down the lock button. Trapped, she whirled on him, eyes flashing.

"Let me go."

"Not until we talk."

"What's there to talk about? I slept with you. You're free to pursue the next notch in your bedpost."

"Listen to yourself! I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

"Bullshit. You tell every girl she's special; I've seen you do it."

"You're different!"

She smirked. "I've heard that one too."

"Is there anything I can say to convince you?"

"Not a chance in hell," she snapped, tugging on the door handle. "Let me out!"

"Nothing I can say?" He repeated.

"Nothing."

"Okay."

He set his jaw, grabbing her forcefully and jamming his lips onto hers. Kayla put her hands against his chest to push him away, only to find herself grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pulling him closer. His lips moved on her surprised ones, but she caught on quickly, giving as good as she got.

They broke away panting. He grinned at the sight of her swollen lips.

"I bet you do all the girls." She tried to sound menacing, but she was too out of breath. "Just yesterday I saw you try to pick a girl up."

"And I failed! Kaye, I've been striking out on purpose for the past month!"

This struck a chord. "You've been failing-on purpose?"

"Why the hell else?"

"I just figured the girls had caught on."

His eyes were frustrated. How could he make her understand? "Kaye, all I've wanted is you."

She sighed; the walls were lifting. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I didn't want to risk you spooking. You aren't exactly open to love."

A wry smile passed her lips. "I suppose you're right."

Silence fell. Her hand was still on his chest; he caressed it softly.

"So what now?" She looked to him. Her eyes were open, trusting, but scared.

"I made a promise to look after you, and I mean to. Jocelyn and I have been talking about the three of us moving in together when we get back. Your dad won't ever touch you again."

Her neck bent; she rested her forehead on his chest. He kissed her hair.

"We're going to get through this."

For the first time, she believed him. It was her turn to lift her face and kiss him. "I trust you."

The words tore through Marty's heart. She trusted him. The responsibility was daunting, but he could handle it as long as she stood by his side. He unlocked the car.

They climbed the brick wall surrounding the complex; he caught her as she dropped from the ledge.

"Ready?" He asked, exhilarated.

"Ready," she returned, squeezing his hand and stepping away.

"Kayla," he stage-whispered at her. She turned, and, in two steps, he wrapped himself around her, going in for another kiss that left them both breathless.

"See you on the parade field."

Kayla melted, but he was already jogging off. One last turn of his head, and he winked, his signature wolfish grin playing on his lips.

* * *

The barracks was a madhouse; all the cadets were preparing for the graduation day roll call. Even in a uniform, every girl fiddled with their makeup and hair. Everything had to be perfect, and everyone had to be on time. Kayla weaved through the chaos expertly, unconscious of the grin spreading from ear to ear.

Jocelyn raced up to Kayla the moment the prodigal stepped through the door. "Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"Don't worry, _mom_, I'm fine!"

"Wait—why are you smiling?"

She bit her lip, trying to rein the offending expression in. "What smile?"

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing." Kayla tried to step past her friend, but Jocelyn stopped her.

"You're hiding something."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're biting your lip. You only do that when you're trying to hide something—something good and juicy."

Kayla felt heat rising up her neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You got some, didn't you?"

The grin broke free, but Kayla continued to play it coy. "Me?"

"Yes, you! Who was it? Bailey? Smith? Ooh—Carter?"

"No, you idiot!"

"Well, something happened, and I'm not letting you pass until you tell me. I'll even get Deeks to beat it out of you if I have to!"

Kayla's face turned tomato red at the sound of Marty's name.

"No," Jocelyn gasped. "You slept with Deeks?"

Silence fell in the bunkroom as every single girl turned to the twosome with identical glares. The blonde released the breath she didn't know she was holding and nodded just the tiniest bit.

Jocelyn let out a whoop. "About time!"

"What do you mean, 'about time'?"

"You know very damn well! You two are perfect together!" Jocelyn plopped on her bed, pulling Kayla with her. "How was it? Sweet and gentle, or passionate and torrid?"

Kayla blushed profusely, fully aware of the other girls in the room—most of whom were Marty's previous bedfellows. "Can we talk about this _after_ graduation?"

"_Fine_!" Jocelyn conceded, releasing Kayla. "But I want every detail!"


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Readers, I have updated this chapter! A reviewer by the name of bgnaraharisetti reminded me of Deeks's loyalty to his friends. He would never break or forget a promise, and I updated to reflect and honor that. Other chapter referring to this will be updated soon.

* * *

Marty hugged the walls as he jogged across campus. Mud weighed down his already wet tennis shoes and jeans, contributing to the squelching noises he made with every step. He wished the shoes would shut up; he had no desire to be caught on graduation day. He had worked too hard for this.

Even still, last night was worth it. The culmination of his desires finally came to fruition in one glorious night, and he couldn't wait to do it again. She had never seemed so fragile in his arms as when she finally gave herself to him.

_Promise me. Promise me I'm not another conquest_.

Never. Not in a million years would he use her and throw away the remains. The strength that it must have taken—the courage—left him in awe of the girl who had been through so much, yet understood his struggles.

He had slept with many women, but she was different. After being used by the men in her life up until this point, he knew that sex was the last thing on her mind. Sex equaled abuse. But he could tell just by holding her that she was as innocent as a virgin when it came to lovemaking. He wanted more. He wanted to _know_ her body, mind, and soul. Every other girl was good for a night, like an expiring coupon, but he planned to hold on with this one.

He wanted to memorize her every curve and sensation. He wanted to find the spot that makes her swoon. He wanted her to scream his name. He wanted find out more—what makes her laugh, what makes her cry, and how to fix her heart when it breaks.

He wanted—

"Cadet!"

The call came from across the parade ground; Deeks knew it was for him—he was the only cadet in sight. He considered running, but that would be fruitless. Instead, he turned toward the voice and stood at attention.

"Sir?"

"Cadet, please accompany me to the Chief's office. We have some matters to discuss."

_That's it,_ Marty thought, _I'm screwed. They're going to toss me out. I'm expelled._

"Yes, sir."

The march across the parade field was excruciating. The captain remained silent, and Deeks followed his lead despite the burning questions plaguing his mind. Finally, they arrived. Marty's escort opened the door for him, letting him through to the Chief's office.

"Sir, I can explain-" he started, but the Chief raised his hand, silencing the nervous cadet.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Apparently not, sir."

A chuckle in the corner alerted Deeks that they were not alone.

"Forgive me, Mr. Deeks; allow me to introduce Detective Hardy."

Aside from a slight smirk, Deeks let the Hardy Boys reference slide. "Sir."

"Mr. Deeks, I brought you to Detective Hardy's attention when he requested young candidates for a sting operation."

Marty's eyebrows shot up. "Sting operation?"

"You see," the chief elaborated, "pre-graduation cadets are the perfect base for undercover work. Their paperwork has yet to go through and they're not in the system. No information to wipe, no background to create."

"I don't understand, sir."

"I want you on my team, Deeks," Detective Hardy chimed in. "You've got the looks, the charm, and the irritating immaturity of a seventeen year-old."

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir."

"It wasn't."

"I don't care."

"Either way," the chief interjected, "we think you're the right guy for the job. You'll be posing as Detective Hardy's son, going undercover at the local high school."

"What is this, _21 Jump Street_?"

"We are legally obligated to avoid that name." The humor was not lost on the detective. "We call it operation 22 Bounce Drive."

Marty couldn't hold his excitement in; his repressed smile threatened to split his head open. "A very clever title, sir."

"If you choose to accept, you'll pack your things immediately and head out."

_Immediately? Head out?_ Deeks panicked. Undercover work was his dream; this gig was the perfect fast track to detective.

But what about Kayla?

"Sir, may I have a day to think about this?"

"Mr. Deeks," Detective Hardy faced him eye to eye, "Let me level with you. This offer expires the moment you leave this room."

"Can I make a phone call?"

"Son," the chief was becoming exasperated. "Not to be inconsiderate, but we chose you for this job because you have no family to speak of, and nothing holding you back. You can't tell anyone where you're going or you might compromise your mission."

"How long do you expect the case to last?" He desperately wanted this, but his promise to Kayla made it difficult. Marty Deeks _never_ reneged on a promise, and he had no intention of leaving Kayla.

"It lasts until we get the job done," Hardy chimed in. "But I can't imagine it taking more than a couple of months. Once it's done, you'll be able to fall into a routine at the precinct."

"Two months?" Deeks repeated. "Can you at least deliver a letter to someone for me?"

The chief squirmed in his chair. "Sure. Do you accept?"

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Hundreds of cadets filed onto the lawn, row by row. Kayla craned her neck, looking for Marty to no avail. Jocelyn elbowed her, and Kayla tripped on the muddy parade field.

"Watch it!" Kayla elbowed back. The squad leader glared at the twosome disapprovingly and they fell into step.

The grandstands were filled with family and friends; it didn't take long for Kayla to spot her father. The sheriff was decked out in his full uniform, hat and all. _Typical power play_, she scoffed inwardly. He spotted her, tweaking his eyebrow at her suggestively. It took all her effort to choke down the bile rising in her throat and keep walking.

The corps stood in final formation, and the chief began his speech. Mud seeped through Kayla's shoes; she shuffled her feet.

"What are you doing?" Jocelyn muttered under her breath.

"Do you see Marty?"

Jocelyn glanced around. "No, why?"

"Don't you think it's odd that he isn't at graduation?"

"He's late to everything."

"He promised he'd be here."

"And he never reneges on his promises."

Kayla's heart sank. "This isn't happening."

The speech passed; Kayla couldn't keep her eyes forward. It was impossible to focus without Marty. Movement on the opposite path caught her attention; two figures made their way from the men's barracks.

_Marty?_

The blonde walked along the path at a fast clip, his feet quickened by anticipation. He slung the duffel over his shoulder, thankful for the weight; it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. Looking over at the parade field, he smirked. Those sheep had to stand in line while he got to skip all the paperwork, heading straight to his dream job.

Deeks disappeared from view as Kayla realized he wasn't coming back. The ceremony ended; it was all she could do to hold it together. Jocelyn watched Kayla out of the corner of her eye. The smile that had owned Kayla's face earlier in the day had sunk into a blank expression, complete with dead eyes. It wasn't difficult for Jocelyn to deduce that Kayla had slipped into a danger zone.

"Okay," Jocelyn sighed. "I have to go find my folks. Are you going to be okay?"

Kayla nodded vacantly. "I have to go find Deeks."

"Honey…" she started, but Kayla had already plodded off.

* * *

Kayla's mind was spinning. She looked everywhere; the men's barracks, the women's barracks, the mess hall, even the gym. With every new spot, her heart hardened even more. Marty was nowhere to be found, and she was in denial. Finally, she checked the parking lot. To her chagrin, Marty's precious Chandra was nowhere to be found.

With heavy feet and a heavy heart, she turned back to the parade ground where her father waited amid other officers. He smiled at her; she was under no illusion to smile back. As his arm wrapped around her shoulder, it was all Kayla could do to maintain a straight face. Her skin crawled under his fingers. He kissed her temple, she stiffened but smiled for the show of it.

"I missed you."

_I'll bet you did_, her inner voice responded. She glanced at her father, smiling stiffly at his friends. Survival mode had set in, and it was in high gear.

* * *

Marty drove down the road behind Detective Hardy. All his belongings were piled in the back, as Chandra gunned along the highway. One click, and the speakers blasted at full volume. As he listened to the deejay chatter on, a nagging sensation added itself to the sinking in the pit of his stomach.

_Kayla_.

Guilt already gnawed at his chest; he desperately hoped he had made the right decision.

Two months? He could make it—but could she?

* * *

The chief watched detective and cadet walk out of the office. In his calloused hand, he held the handwritten note from Deeks. Though he had said it would be delivered, the letter was a breach of protocol and he knew it. He tapped his fingers on the desk in an attempt to convince himself the lie was worth it.

Turning, he dropped the letter into the paper shredder.

_Yes,_ he nodded, _it's for the best._


	9. EIGHT YEARS LATER - Chapter 9

Detective Marty Deeks straightened his tuxedo jacket, wincing with discomfort as the slim cut chafed against the shoulder holster. He had always hated the constraining cut of uniforms, tuxedo or otherwise, preferring his cotton shirts and well-worn jeans.

_Still_, he thought, catching a glimpse of himself in one of the ballroom's many floor-to-ceiling mirrors, _I look damn good_.

The suit was expertly crafted and cut perfectly to his lines under Hetty's masterful supervision. Only his hair, tousled in his signature style, set him apart from the military rigidity expressed by the guests of the Navy New Year ball.

"Deeks, do you have anything?" His partner's voice jarred him from self-admiration. Though she was across the room, the comm jammed into his ear made it sound like she was beside him.  
He lifted his wrist to his mouth. "Lieutenant checking you out at three o'clock."

Kensi made a growled in frustration, an outward reflex to hide the fact that she was secretly flattered. Clad in a clingy one-sleeve black gown, she was keenly aware of her bare leg through the high slit. _At least it lets me run_, she thought wryly. Her heels gave her no such help; their only asset being their ability to slide off easily should she need to give chase. "Anything helpful?"

"Nada."

"Keep looking," Callen ordered. "That bomb has to be here somewhere. Sam?"

The fourth member of the crew sighed. "The perimeter is secure. No sign of foul play."

"If I were a bomb at a high profile Navy ball, where would I hide?" Deeks wondered aloud.

"Seriously?"

"Where would you hide a bomb, Kens?"

"I won't even dignify that with a response."

"Do you want to know where I'd hide it?"

"Not really."

"I'd hide it in the cake!"

Kensi decided to humor him. "Why would anyone do that?"

"If you can hide a stripper in a cake, you can hide a bomb in a cake."

She rolled her eyes. "Fascinating."

* * *

The kitchen bustled with the energy of a thousand cooks. In truth, there were only six chefs, but fifty waiters and waitresses filtered in and out through the swinging doors. Kayla stood in the thick of it, filling pastries with freshly whipped cream with one hand and stirring melted chocolate. One of the waitresses stepped forward, grabbing a tray of crème puffs.

"Wait, Katie," she called, sprinkling chocolate shavings along the tray. "How's the crowd out there?"

"Busy," the flustered girl smiled. "Hungry for dessert."

"Perfect!" She handed the girl another tray.

Kayla peeked through the porthole in the swinging doors that led to the ballroom. It glittered gold; each guest was decked out to the nines. Most men were in full uniform regalia, complete with medals, bars, and braids. The women chattered amongst themselves, talking about designer dresses, hair, and the like. With a watchful eye, Kayla checked to be sure the wait staff was distributing the desserts properly. Amongst Kayla's charges, the tiramisu was her specialty. She used an old recipe she had mined from her memories of cooking with her mother. Other choices were gluten-free chocolate raspberry cake, the aforementioned crème puffs, and simple trifle. Each waiter waltzed around the room seamlessly, trays of the goodies expertly perched on their hands.

Satisfied, she turned her attention to the piece de resistance, the cake. She had spent weeks planning, designing, and assembling the masterpiece: a seven-layer staircase column covered in ivory fondant. Gold-painted braids wove around the base of each layer in a nautical style, rising to the topmost layer, which was adorned with a perfect replica of the Navy seal sculpted from gum paste and sugar craft. Kayla had spent much of her preparation studying nautical knots. An error in such a major detail would no doubt buckle under scrutiny from the expert audience. Despite her insecurities, she was pleased with the cake.

A waiter moved to roll it out.

"No, Zeke," she called, grabbing the cart back. "I've got this."

He sent her a questioning glance before relinquishing his grasp reluctantly.

Kayla wove her way through the dancing guests, wheeling the cake to its final destination across the room. Something clunked under the cart; she resolved to check the moment she dropped it off. Lifting the tablecloth, her eyes widened.

_Bomb! _

Her body reacted before her mind, and she leapt back, knocking over one of the guests. In her panic, she thought she recognized the man, but quickly dismissed the notion. Instead, she raised a hand, pointing.

"Bomb," she whispered in his ear.

* * *

Deeks completed what felt like the millionth sweep of the room. He was bored.

"Are you sure this is even going down?"

"For someone who is so easily amused, you certainly lose interest quickly," Kensi remarked.

He was distracted by a cake rolling across the floor. "Kens," he smiled, "What do you want to bet it's in the cake?"

"You haven't given up on that stripper cake theory, have you?"

"I'm investigating now."

"Tell me if you find a stripper."

"Mmm," he moaned suggestively. "I will definitely let you know."

As he approached, the chef locked the cart into place. Her brown hair was pulled back into a neat chignon, but he couldn't help but notice her nice bum as she leant over to check underneath. He was too busy checking her out when she stumbled back, knocking him over. Steadying her, he took a second to gaze into her eyes, a beautiful, albeit familiar brown. They sparked with recognition, but there was no time to ponder as she whispered the word he had been dreading all night:

_"Bomb."_

Deeks dropped her unceremoniously, flipping up the tablecloth. Sure enough, his eyes widened at the sight of the mechanism taped to underneath the table.

"Guys, we got a live one."

"Can you see how much time?" Callen replied.

The counter ticked down from 37 seconds.

"Not enough. You need to get everyone out _now_."

Kensi, Sam, and Callen leapt into action, yelling at everyone to evacuate. Thankfully, over half the room was active or former military; their instincts kicked in, helping move the proceedings along. Kayla's cop instincts kicked in, and she knelt beside the blonde.

"What can I do?"

He waved at her without turning his head. "Get out of here!"

"I can help!" she contradicted. "What do you need me to do?"

Contrary to popular belief, bombs don't beep as they count down. That would be conspicuous, and that is the last thing bombers want. Marty's eyes flashed to the timer; there were five seconds to go.

"Duck!" he yelled, practically throwing her behind a table that he simultaneously tipped over.

Sufficiently sheltered, he wrapped his arms around her at the last possible second. The bomb exploded, spraying shrapnel everywhere and shoving their shield of a table into their backs. The dust settled, and Marty looked to his stubborn charge. She was knocked out, blood trickling from her temple. Her hair had fallen loose, obscuring her face; he pushed it back as dust fell around them.

"Deeks!" Kensi called. The comm had been knocked out, but her voice carried through the din of resting debris.

"Kens!"

"You okay?"

"Peachy!" He cradled Kayla's head, but waved his hand above the table. "I've got someone who isn't so okay!"

Kensi looked down at the girl. "Paramedics are on their way. I'll look after her; you go check in with Callen and Sam."

"Will do."

* * *

Kayla awoke to the jostling of a gurney—which was being loaded into an ambulance!

"What the hell?"

A paramedic looked down at her. "Welcome back."

"What happened?" Her head was foggy.

"You took a knock to the head when the bomb went off."

"Oh, shit." She remembered everything: the bomb, the painfully familiar blonde who saved her life— "My cake!"

"If that's all you're worried about, you'll be fine. You might have a concussion; you should probably get checked out at the hospital."

Kayla panicked. "Not a chance; I have to get home!"

"Okay, well wait a bit; the cops want to ask you a few questions."

They allowed her off the gurney; she opted to sit on the fender, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the January chill. Time passed; she twiddled her thumbs and drank water, but finally, two officers, the blonde and his partner, approached her. She could tell from their gait that the female was no cop. Law enforcement, definitely, but she carried herself with more authority. Federal enforcement, Kayla settled upon. The other one, however, failed to hide his rough manner behind his tuxedo; he was definitely LAPD.

As he moved closer, she realized he was more than just LAPD. Her heart leapt into her throat. She recognized him.

"So, how's the patient doing?" he asked Kayla.

She regarded him coolly. "Fine, no thanks to you."

"Hey, I saved your butt back there! Besides, what's a chef doing trying to diffuse a bomb?"

Kayla fixing her brown eyes on his blue ones curiously. "You don't remember me, do you?"

"We've met before?"

"Let's see if you remember this." She swung her fist so fast, he didn't see it coming. The punch socked him right across the jaw; sharp pain rang through his skull. The words were choked out, barely audible, yet laced with pure contempt. "You promised."

With that, she took off at a top sprint, leaving the blanket behind. His partner made chase, catching her easily, but Kayla was running on adrenaline now. One quick spin with an elbow to her opponent's sternum, and she was free. Another agent, who she surmised to be the leader, grabbed her as she broke away, holding her arms against her sides. Kick as she might, she could not get out.

"Ma'am, you are under arrest for assaulting a federal officer," he announced, grunting as she punched his thigh. He handcuffed her expertly before handing her to one of the police officers on scene.

"You have _got_ to be joking!" she yelled. "Deeks! You're kidding, right?"

He gave no reply, but stared blankly at her, wracking his brain for a connection.

Kensi limped back to Deeks. It may have been one blow, but it was a solid one.

"Care to tell me what that was about?"

"I have no idea," he replied, still in shock. "Who was that?"

His partner retrieved the list of guests and staff, flipping through to find her picture. "Kayla Townsend, dessert chef."

Marty's face went white. "You said Kayla?"

"Yeah, why?"

He gulped. "She's sort of the one that got away."


	10. Chapter 10

Dear Readers, I'm so thrilled by all the reviews, faves, and follows; thanks so much! This story has been a baby of mine for a while and I'm glad it has been received so well.

* * *

Marty gazed at the boatshed monitor, pondering his prisoner. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized her in the commotion. She had put on weight; nothing unattractive -in fact, it softened her hard angles and added an air of femininity she had lacked at the academy. He judged her at a generous size six. Glancing at her t-shirt (she had removed the sooty chef jacket), he noted that her bosom had finally come into its own. Weight, and possibly a less strenuous workout, had finally let her become the woman he saw before him. Her hair, dyed a bottled brown, draped limply past her shoulders. Clearly, she had taken efforts to hide her identity-but why? From the look of the split ends, she hadn't had a haircut in well over two years.

"The one that got away, huh?" Kensi interrupted his thoughts. "How do you two know each other?"

"We were at the academy together."

"What did she mean, 'you promised'?"

Opting not to answer, he rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. Was this a nightmare or fate?

"Can I have my phone call?" Kayla looked directly into the camera, eyebrows raised in annoyance at the wait.

Kensi looked to Deeks. "How do you want to play this?"

"Give her the call," he nodded.

His partner obliged, pulling out her cell phone and entering the interrogation room.

Kayla was taken aback as the slim agent handed her the phone. "Where's the lying bastard?" She asked with thinly veiled sarcasm. Her tone indicated innocence, but her eyes displayed an icy fury that made even Kensi shiver.

"Make your phone call," she ordered, avoiding the question.

Kayla dialed, but smiled at Kensi. "Has he slept with you yet?"

Kensi blinked at her abrupt tone, but hid her reaction by sitting across from the prisoner. "No."

"Wow," she remarked, "How long have you been partners?"

"Three years."

"That must be a record for him."

Kensi agreed inwardly, but said nothing. Kayla turned away from the agent for what little privacy she could get. Pat, her friend and landlady, answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Pat," Kayla greeted, fidgeting as she tried to figure out what to say. "Something came up at work; I might not be home for a while."

"I should say, something came up! It's all over the news! Are you okay?"

"I'm unharmed and safe," she reassured.

"When do they plan on letting you out of the hospital?"

How much should she divulge? "I'm not at the hospital."

"Oh? Where are you?"

"I'm sort of...under arrest for assaulting a federal officer-two, actually."

To her surprise, Pat laughed. "Who was it?"

"It was an ex-hopefully, he won't press charges."

Pat was still laughing. "Okay, well, I've got everything under control here. Let me know when it's over."

"Thanks a million!" She sighed, handing the phone back.

* * *

"I like her," Kensi announced as she rejoined her partner. "She's feisty."

"Feisty?" Deeks repeated. "There was a time when she wouldn't talk, let alone cross words with anyone."

"And then she met you?"

"Then she met me."

"You do have a tendency to bring out that side in people."

Deeks smiled wryly. That's what the DTS instructor had said. "How is she?"

"Why don't you get your butt in there and find out?"

"I might need a helmet."

"Don't worry," Kensi smiled, "I'll be right outside the door if you need protection."

* * *

Pat hung up, but dialed a new number as fast as she could. The recipient picked up the phone, but Pat didn't wait for a greeting.

"They've met." She could hardly bear her excitement.

"I know," the woman on the other end responded. "I'm watching them now."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I needed your surprise to be genuine."

"I'm surprised all right. Finally, after all these years of waiting!" Pat took a breath to calm herself. "I wondered if the time I spent watching her would ever pay off."

"The girl needs protection. Who knows what would have come after her when they realized who she was?"

"But she meant nothing to him then, surely his enemies would know that."

"I have learned to never underestimate the power of love." She paused. "Does he know?"

"I don't think so, but I can't be sure."

"Well, keep an eye out; I need you watching them now that this is escalating."

"Will do. Over and out."

* * *

Marty tapped his fingers on the case folder as he entered the interrogation room.

"So…Kayla _Townsend_ is it?"

"In the flesh," she shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant.

The truth was more difficult; his proximity made her extremely uncomfortable. Suppressing the emotions she hadn't felt in years, she met his eyes. _Damn those eyes!_ They were bluer than she remembered, searing through her mind like twin bolts of electricity. She looked away.

"Townsend, not Miles?" he pressed.

"My name is Kayla Townsend. _Mi nombre es _Kayla Townsend. How else do you need me to say it?" She found herself overcompensating for her discomfort with an exagerrated display of confidence.

Sitting across from her, he lay the file in front of her. "But you _were_ Kayla Miles, correct?"

Kayla shrugged again. "So what?"

"I'm just wondering if you know a girl by the name of Kayla Miles, went to the police academy, sweet, and quiet."

"I haven't seen her in about eight years," she shot back, but her tone didn't match her body language. She bit her lip, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Kaye," he whispered, touching her hand gently. "Look at me."

It wasn't an order, but her inner struggle was visible. Her head lifted slowly, as if made of stone, and she met his gaze evenly. A shiver slithered down his spine as he looked into her eyes. They were empty, dead. He could remember the fire they used to hold; the passion, even the fear—but this was heartbreaking.

"What happened to you?"

The reaction was instantaneous; her brown orbs were ablaze. He might have been elated if the anger wasn't focused on him.

"_What happened?_" she repeated, jumping from her chair. "Are you fucking kidding me? You made a promise to protect me and then you disappeared without a word!"

The words hung in the air. Kayla sat down again, arms tightly folded, her gaze unrelenting. Deeks could never have imagined his actions could have such dire consequences.

"What do you mean, without a word? I wrote you a letter explaining everything!"

Kayla stared blankly at him. "What letter?"

"The letter the chief delivered to you! They commissioned me last minute for undercover work—something about less paperwork if I left before graduation. They told me I couldn't speak to anyone about the case. Didn't you get the letter?"

"No," she replied tersely. "You're saying that you left, knowing full well what you were doing? I thought you had forgotten about me. You can't make a promise like that and just disappear_._"

"Kaye…" He didn't know how to express just how much the guilt had eaten at him. He wished every day that he had chosen to stay.

"You left."

"I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

She bit back a retort, barely choking out her response. "Well, you're too late."

Outside the interrogation room, even Kensi felt uncomfortable.

Inside, Marty remained silent, but Kayla wasn't finished with him.

"It seems you haven't stopped breaking hearts." She paused for effect. "I counted about three girls at the hotel you've slept with."

"How—"

She cut him off. "All three had that glazed over expression just about every other female cadet at the Academy. The jury's still out on your partner over there."

"You can hate on me all you want, but leave Kensi out of it."

Kayla nodded in mock congeniality. "Deal."

Marty flipped through the file in an attempt to regain control of the interview. Interrogation was unnecessary; he only held onto her because he didn't want to lose her again. If she continued like this, he might cut her lose any second. It was painful to witness this side of her; every one of her defense mechanisms were up, she was beyond shutdown; this was an attack.

"Your file is a bit sparse; what happened after the Academy?"

"I left home."

It was clear he wouldn't get anything out of her. He'd seen this before: iron shields behind those eyes, no chance of getting in.

Deeks still struggled to understand how she could have taken his departure so hard. He had experienced dozens of one night stands; those girls never turned crazy—at least, not like this. So why was she so bitter? He wanted to attribute it to her fragility when he left her, but the last time they parted ways, she glowed with confidence.

"It was never my dream to be on the force! The only thing that made the thought close to bearable was the knowledge that you would be there with me. I thought you had my back!"

Despite his near decade of guilt, she was starting to get on his nerves. "So you expected me to throw my career in with someone who didn't even want to do what others dream of doing? You are unbelievable."

Kayla leaned forward in her chair, her face inches from his. "You promised you would be there with me." Venom poisoned her every word.

"You made it, didn't you?" he reasoned, gesturing at the woman before him. "Look at you!"

"I made it?" she fumed, "you have no idea the hell I've been through."

Deeks looked up at her, his eyes filled with regret. Kayla mentally scolded herself for softening momentarily at his puppy dog eyes.

"You're an ass," she declared, snapping out of it.

"Agreed."

His answer surprised her; she blinked, the hatred dissipating to pain. "You left at the _worst_ possible time."

"You know how I am," he joked, flashing a smile. He was desperate to avoid the guilt he felt. "I live free like the birds."

"Says the cop," she returned pointedly. "It's comforting to know you haven't changed."

"Are you seriously holding this against me?"

"Why shouldn't I?" she replied innocently.

"You know me; you know who I am. Besides—why would you need me? You have Mr. Townsend now." Jealousy tinged his voice surprising him as much as her. "What's he like, anyway?"

It dawned on Kayla that he assumed her name change was due to marriage. She made no effort to correct him. If he thought she was married, her exit could be a lot cleaner. Marty was a player, but he drew the line at married women.

"He makes me laugh, he's sweet, and _loyal_."

"He sounds adorable!" Deeks teased. "What's his name?"

"Andy." The name slipped out, too late to take it back, but if she needed to make this real, she would need to play this right.

"Andy Townsend?" He motioned to the camera; Kensi would look it up for him.

"Don't you go looking him up, either!" Her half-truth would fall apart if he pushed any further.

"Who, me?"

"You forget how well I know you."

The words hung in the air as Deeks shoved his hands into his pockets. "Kayla Townsend, I have half a mind to let you rot in here."

For the first time, Kayla felt desperate. "You wouldn't do that to me."

"I don't know; you did sock me in the jaw."

She leaned forward, almost pleading. "Come on, you've got to let me out of here."

"Say please." His smile was sickeningly sweet.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Say please or I'll make you apologize for punching me."

"Deeks," she pleaded through gritted teeth, "I have punched, kicked, slapped—hell, I've even bitten you—a thousand times, all over. Now you're making me apologize for one hit? You've got another thing coming."

He leaned across the table; she could feel his breath on her face. His smile was charming, his words were soft. "Say. Please."

Kayla weighed her options; pride or freedom?

"Please, _asshole_."

"I don't appreciate the sarcasm, but I accept." He snapped his fingers, hopped up from his chair, and opened the door.

"This way, Kayla." Kensi's eyes twinkled with laughter, and Kayla hated her now, too.

Kayla whirled on Deeks, raising her hand quick as lightening, as if to slap him. He winced in anticipation of the pain, but she stopped herself, millimeters from his face to pat his cheek gently.

"I've made my point. Leave me alone."

They passed the car ride to the hotel in peace. Her car was still in the parking lot. Kayla was grateful that he wouldn't see her apartment; the more separation, the better. Kensi knew to stay quiet. The car was charged with tension, and she decided to save her comments when she was alone with Deeks.

Marty watched Kayla through the rearview mirror. She avoided his gaze, unconsciously biting her lip. He had thought the habit was cute at the academy, and he loved it now. It made him nostalgic for the day she let him kiss those lips. He doubted she would let him now.

They pulled up in the parking lot; Kayla couldn't get out of the SUV fast enough. Marty fought with himself. There was no way he could let her go like this; it was too hard.

"Kayla!" He jumped after her as she bolted to her car. "You can't just leave like this."

"Why?" She was tired. She wanted nothing more than to escape, go home, and shower the soot off her body. "You did."

"At least let me take you to coffee."

"So we can pick up where we left off?" She caught herself actually contemplating his offer, but dismissed it. "Screw you."

He couldn't resist it; she set up the response perfectly. "You already did."

Her eyes misted over; she looked vulnerable. He realized then that under all her bravado, she was still the insecure girl from the ring. She ducked her head, climbing into her car and screeching away. Marty turned back to Kensi.

"I still like her." A smirk played on her lips.

"Shut up," he snapped. His eyes followed her car out of the parking lot. "You know, I spent the whole time at the academy teaching her not to put up with anyone's bullshit."

"Including yours?"

"I never thought it'd go so far as to bite me in the ass."


	11. Chapter 11

It was brought to my attention that I repeated the chapter about halfway down. My intention was to add more from Deeks's POV; the issue has been corrected.

* * *

Safely in her car, Kayla put the petal to the metal letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding. It felt like she had just run a marathon. Her energy was fully drained. Tears ran down her cheeks; she was too tired to hold them in. The road blurred in front of her, but she stayed her course. She had to get home.

What had she been thinking? She had, after all, been dreaming about seeing him every day since the academy. The sight of him walking toward her at that ambulance had made her heart stop; her dreams were becoming reality. Then he didn't recognize her, and she realized just how foolish her childish fantasies were.

Of course he didn't remember her! She was just one in a long line of lovers! And what's worse, he had forgotten about her less than fifteen minutes after leaving her on the most important day of her young life! She felt her jaw tighten with frustration. He had seen how angry she was with him, but she felt provoked; her display of fury was more dramatic than the pain she actually felt. She wasn't mad, she was hurt.

Those eight years had been tough. At first, she had thought maybe, just maybe, he'd show up at her dad's place. In the middle of it, her clothes torn, her father on top of her, she would close her eyes and picture him barging through the door to the rescue. It took a few months for her to realize that she was her only hero. No one was going to look out for her, not even Jocelyn, after her father threatened her best friend's career. When it happened—that rude awakening that left her so disillusioned and bitter—there was no turning back.

Lost in her thoughts, the ride home passed in the blink of an eye. Dragging her feet up the stairs to her walkup, she managed to compose herself in time for Pat to answer her knock.

"Hey!" Pat greeted. She was older, maybe in her late forties. Her blonde hair was arranged into a short pixie cut, framing her pointed face. She was tall, with a willowy frame that made her look like a graceful ballerina. Still, Kayla knew Pat well enough to understand that the woman's eyes hid wisdom, humor, and secrets.

Those same eyes raked over Kayla's soot-covered frame. "You look like shit."

Kayla managed to smile wryly in Pat's direction. "I feel like it, too."

"Well, I managed to keep the house from burning down while you were gone."

"Thanks for everything, Pat," she sighed.

"I'm guessing you want to be left alone."

Kayla looked gratefully at her friend. "That would be fantastic."

Her legs threatened to buckle under her; she didn't even turn as Pat gathered her things and walked out the door. Step by painful step, she hauled her exhausted body to her bedroom and collapsed on her bed with a final sigh. Not a moment later, she was deep in the arms of sleep.

* * *

Marty stared at the ceiling above his bed, unable to sleep. Memories played through his mind, unable to change the mental channels. She was everywhere, even when he closed his eyes. He relived their first meeting, the physical and verbal bouts in the ring, the energy that crackled between them when they touched, the drinking games, that night in the car…

No matter what he did to induce sleep, he could not blot her from his mind. After years of suppressing his regrets, they had finally managed to bubble to the surface.

_Screw it, _he thought, pulling himself out of bed. He changed into his wetsuit, grabbed his board, and headed down to the waiting ocean. He could always think better in the waves.

The sun rose as he paddled out toward the horizon. The lapping water calmed him; he allowed his thoughts to wander once more. There was no way to stop it; he had to see her again. Maybe, just maybe, if he went to see her again, she would have to forgive him—maybe even take him back. Usually, he wasn't one to go back for seconds, but she was…different.

He felt the water move beneath his hand; a wave built beneath him. Propelling himself forward, he lifted himself slowly into position and let the surf take him. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as he rode the pipe. The line ended, and he fell into the water, allowing the liquid to envelop him. In that moment, he knew what he had to do.

* * *

"Eric!" Deeks yelled, running up the stairs to OPS. He had gotten into the office at the break of dawn, but he knew Eric would still be there from the previous night, cooling off with a HALO marathon.

It was obvious that Eric had only just hidden the video game from view when he burst througnh the doors. "What?" he slurred, obviously unhappy to be jarred from the gaming coma.

Deeks was undeterred. "I need you to do a search for me."

"Official business?" Eric answered with a smirk.

"Do this, and I won't tell Hetty you were using OPS for HALO again."

The techie smiled grimly. "What do you want to know?"

"Kayla Townsend's address?"

Eric plugged the name into the system. "Nada."

"What?"

"Her last known address is in Hollywood, shared with an Alan Miles."

"That's her father; I know she isn't there anymore."

"There's nothing in her name, not since 2005."

"2005? That's seven years ago!"

"Don't yell at me; that's what the almighty computer says!"

Deeks wracked his brain. "How do people find her for catering? There has to be something."

Eric's fingers clicked away on his handheld keyboard. "Well, she provided a P.O. box and phone number to the hotel."

"A P.O. box doesn't help me," Deeks groaned. "Wait—she had to give a physical address for security clearance, otherwise they wouldn't let her near SECNAV."

"Checking now," Eric narrated. "Okay, so she wrote down an address belonging to a Patricia O'Neal."

"Well? Where is it?"

"Venice Beach," he looked over to Marty's determined grimace. "I assume you want the address texted to your phone?"

"You got it!" Deeks called, racing out of the room.

* * *

The walk up the apartment stairs was absolutely terrifying. What should he say? She had told him, in no uncertain terms, to stay away. Even if she let him in, would she go out with him? Would she take him back?

He hovered outside the door, hand drifting inches away from the door, playing his opening line through his head.

_Hello, it's been a while._ No, too James Taylor.

_Well, you're still looking good._ Still James Taylor.

_How 'bout that explosion? _Too flippant.

He knocked three times and waited. Shuffling on the opposite side of the door let him know she was looking through the peephole. He smiled for the proverbial camera. The chain slid into place and she opened the door two inches.

"What do you want?" she snapped. Her face was taught.

"Hi," he stuttered, wavering under her stern gaze.

She repeated herself, "What do you want?"

"I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday."

"You think?" She was in no mood to humor him.

"If you could just let me in—"

"I don't think so."

"I just want to talk!"

The door slammed shut; she unlocked the chain, stepped out, and slammed the door behind her. She positioned herself menacingly, arms folded, like a bear guarding its territory. He couldn't help but notice that she was dressed in a racerback tank and _short _jogging shorts. The spandex hugged her curves, giving him a clear view of cleavage. He wondered that if she turned around, the backside would be just as appealing. The anger in her eyes brought him back to reality.

"You want to talk? Let's talk! Do you want to talk about how you abandoned me, or how you haven't even apologized?"

He couldn't help but grin; she was still cute angry. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Could have fooled me!"

They stared each other down. The air between them crackled with unresolved energy, drawing them closer. Marty stepped forward, drawn by unknown magnetism. She had to look up to meet his eyes; their breath intermingled. If he tipped his chin just a bit…

"MOM!" The call cut through the air like a knife. "Mom, I can't tie my shoe!"

The door opened behind Kayla, and out stepped a precocious young kid. His unruly flaxen hair dipped across his forehead, stopping just above some very, _very_ familiar eyes. At Marty's look of recognition, she put her arm around the boy, stepping in front of him.

"Kaye?" Marty glanced to Kayla, who stared him down.

"We have to go to school now," she said pointedly. "I trust you know your way back."

He nodded, frozen in his spot. Kayla straightened the boy's backpack, took his hand, and stalked down the stairs.

* * *

Kayla took off down the sidewalk, face forward but seeing nothing. The walk to school was an easy one; she could do it with her eyes closed.

_How dare he show up at my house!_ She fumed. Interrogating her at the boatshed was one thing—that was on his turf; but showing up at her place was an invasion of privacy and personal space. Growing up with so little she called her own, Kayla was more than a little territorial. Add a son who she would do everything to protect, and she adopted the temperament of as menacing and unforgiving as a mother bear.

"Mom!" the extension of her arm called.

She stopped. "Yeah, honey?"

"You're pulling my arm off!"

"Sorry, sweetie." She knelt beside him, tying the shoe she should have fixed back at the house.

"Mom?"

Standing, they renewed their walk to school. "Yeah?"

"Who was that man?"

Kayla halted, wondering how to respond. Should she tell him who Deeks actually was? She could never lie to him. "He's a policeman. He just had a few questions about yesterday."

"About the hotel exploding?"

"Yes."

The child nodded, satisfied with her explanation. They had arrived.

"Okay," she sighed. "Have a good day at school. I'll pick you up at two thirty sharp!"

"I know, mom," he squirmed as she kissed him on the cheek.

"Bye!"

She followed him until he disappeared into the school. Then, watching the door shut behind him, she slid in her earbuds and headed off running.

The feeling of her feet pounding on the sidewalk was reassuring as she relaxed into a warm up jog. The wind played with tendrils of hair that fell loose from her ponytail. Music pounded in her ears; she reveled in the sound. It erased everything; thoughts, worries, frustrations, they all melted away.

* * *

Deeks watched her walk away as a million and one questions flooded his mind. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the boy was his. The kid was the spitting image of himself at the tender age of eight. He ran his hand through his hair, pacing. It was a shock; why hadn't she told him? He had sensed she was holding some sort of information, but this was a bombshell. It floored him.

Sliding down the wall, he held his head in his hands. It dawned on him like an epiphany. This was why she hated him. He had abandoned her just after impregnating her without a second thought. Of course, he could never have known she was pregnant. He tried to use the thought to clear him of guilt to no avail. He had undeniably screwed her over in the most literal way possible.

The look in her eyes when the kid stepped into view was terrifying; that had clearly not been part of the game plan. A pang of betrayal ripped through his heart; she had planned to send him on his way without ever telling him. The thought was paralyzing. Sure ignorance had been bliss, but he would never be able to forget the way the kid looked at him. He was a stranger to the boy, who had never seen a picture of his father.

Staring at the ceiling, he resolved to wait for her return. He needed answers, and he wasn't leaving until they were answered.


	12. Chapter 12

Sighing, Kayla mounted the stairs to the apartment. She had doubled her route today, a total of six miles, leaving her exhausted and panting for air. Her legs felt like jelly, and all she wanted right now was a long shower to wash the sweat off of her body.

But no, as she crested the landing, there was Deeks sitting beside her door. Out of breath, she just stared speechlessly as he leapt to his feet.

"Look," he started, "I know you don't want me here, but we really need to talk about this like adults."

She nodded, unlocked the door, and let him in behind her. The room was bathed in the warmth of the morning light, leaving a comforting freshness in the air. The kitchen gleamed, clean and meticulously organized. Pine countertops juxtaposed the vintage aqua and red details, completed with the bright red table. The table was well-loved; it was scratched through in many places and spotted with paint. The appliances were the only modern items in the room: a professional-grade brushed aluminum oven with matching refrigerator and microwave. Framed sketches and paintings were arranged in a cluster along one wall, and he could only assume they were his son's handiwork. As she stood in the room, pouring herself and Deeks a generous glass of water, he decided it suited her; a bright haven in the inevitable chaos of the life of a single parent.

She didn't speak at first, instead choosing to guzzle a large glass of water. Sweat glistened on her brow; he couldn't deny that she stunk.

"Water?" she offered the pitcher to him. Her voice was strangely slow, evenly metered. "I'll answer any questions you have, just let me take a shower."

He nodded, taking a seat at the table. The sound of water coming from her bedroom made him uneasy. She was naked right now, he realized. The thought brought him back to the car that night. He remembered touching that very skin, and how he wished he could do it again. He wondered if they were still together, if he might step in with her and kiss her dewy lips. Slapping his cheeks, he forced himself out of the fantasy.

_Stay focused, Deeks._

Kayla finally exited her room, dressed in yoga pants and a tank top. Water droplets fell from her towel dried hair, leaving transparent trails down her shirt. Her face was clean and fresh, a stark contrast to the pallid complexion he remembered.

"I'm guessing you have a lot of questions," she sighed, her tone open for the first time since he laid eyes on her after the explosion. "Shoot."

"Okay," Marty clapped his hands. "Let's start with the obvious: is he mine?"

"Yes."

"When was he born?"

"March '04."

"Right," Marty sighed, "So unless you were sleeping around, he's definitely mine."

He looked up to see Kayla biting her lip: a telltale sign she was hiding something.

"What?" He prompted. "Were you sleeping around?"

She avoided his eyes. "Not exactly."

"How do you 'not exactly' sleep around?" He asked jealously. "Whose did you think it was?"

Forcing herself to look at him, she breathed, "My dad's."

Everything made sense as he realized the predicament he left her in. "Kayla," he breathed, his jaw dropping. He reached for her hand and she made no move to stop him. Her eyes misted over as she gathered the courage to continue.

"He told me he missed me; I thought my commission would be enough to make him stop. But that night he called me downstairs...and he..."

Marty squeezed her hand. "It's okay," he reassured her.

He confused her. One touch and she wanted to melt. She was so very tired of keeping up a front, and she needed it more than ever with him, but he retained the uncanny ability to lower her walls.

_"Damn you!"_ she blurted.

"Say what now?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly. His empathy was unnerving.

"Kayla, what did he do?"

"Well, how else are babies made?" she snapped.

He knew she was holding back, but didn't push his luck. "Why'd you keep the baby? If you thought he was your brother _and _son, why didn't you opt out?"

"Abortion was _never_ an option. Spawn of Satan or not, I was keeping him."

"Weren't you scared?"

Kayla cracked a smile despite herself. "Shitless!"

"Then why?" Deeks was baffled.

"I figured that if I raised him right, I could erase everything the sheriff ever did to me. It gave me a reason to live. Granted, as I neared my due date, I seriously wondered how I would be able to love such a child. I mean, he would be my son and my brother. But then, out popped Andy, and I just fell in love." She sighed, remembering the moment. "He saved my life."

"You named him Andy?"

"Well, Andrew actually, but he looked like an Andy. I was just so happy he wasn't a product of something ugly, that I had to honor his father."

"Wow," he breathed. The beautifully terrifying reality that he had a son was sinking in. "You named him after my middle name."

"Andrew Davis Townsend." She smiled,

"Davis?" Marty queried.

"My mother's maiden name."

"Fitting. It's a shame I wasn't around to fight over the name with you."

"Really? What would you have named him?"

"Horatio Quintus Deeks."

Kayla suppressed a smile. "Not a chance!"

"Okay, how about Big Daddy Deeks."

"You'd get jealous if he had that name."

"True," he admitted. "I've had so many aliases over the years; there's a lot of off limit names. I'm glad you went with something real."

"So when did you find out it was mine?"

"The moment they handed him to me. No kid would have eyes that blue and hair that amazing straight from the womb."

"I'm flattered," he smirked. "I have passed on my hair for another generation; I can die a happy man."

Kayla laughed in spite of herself, dipping her head. "The kid does have great hair, but I'm pretty sure his haircut is better."

"Unlikely!" his jaw dropped in mock horror. "Do you see this impeccable coif?"

"Impeccable? The bedhead look is so 2009!"

"Says the fashion expert." Sarcasm, of course, and Kayla knew it.

"It would have helped for him to grow up with a real father. He's a lot like you. Strong willed, quick with a joke, an just the sweetest kid! He looks out for his friends and fights for what's right. Literally. He's gotten himself into some bad scrapes in the playground."

"You think I'm sweet?" Marty smiled.

"I used to," she sighed. "Now I don't know. We're both so different from the two cadets those years ago."

"There's still something there, though, right?" He dared to hope, searching her eyes.

"I don't know," she groaned in frustration, turning away. "You left me there! You forgot about me!"

"Kaye," he touched her shoulder, "I may have screwed up, but I never forgot about you."

"How can I believe that?" Her eyes were rimmed with red.

Marty rummaged around in his coat pocket. "Because even when I left you like that, even when you hated me, I couldn't let this go."

He pulled out a faded polaroid, and Kayla gasped in recognition. There she was, her 20-year-old self, tucked safely in Marty's arms. Her smile was jarring on such an angular face, but she looked perfectly happy against his chest.

"Where did you get that?"

"I swiped it at the bar. I didn't have any photos of you, and you looked so happy. I just had to have it."

She looked up at Marty to find him inches away from her face. He leaned over her, one hand on the table, one on her chair. Her heart caught in her throat, conflicted. "I don't hate you," she whispered.

"No?"

"No." She affirmed. "You may have left me at the worst possible time, but I could never hate you after so much good has come of it."

"Then why did you punch me?"

"I don't know, I guess I get a little crazy when you're around. You have particular ability to get under my skin. I can't help my reflexes."

He couldn't help but smile. "I know I did wrong by you, Kaye, and I can't tell you enough how sorry I am. Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

He was so close; it took all her willpower to look at his eye and not the lips that inched ever closer to hers. "I've had eight years to forgive you. It still hurts, but I forgave you long ago."

That did it. He closed the gap between them, steadying her head with his hand. The position was awkward, and he wrapped his free arm around her waist to lift her into a standing position. Her body was pressed against his; it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began. His lips were like water, ending an eight year drought. She would rather drown now than be thirsty ever again.

Even as she realized just how much her body needed him, her brain fought with her heart. This wasn't about her, or even him; it was about Andy. There was no guarantee that Deeks would stick around. What if they didn't work out? It would leave Andy torn between separated parents.

It took every ounce of willpower to unlatch her hands and push gently against his chest. Their lips parted; he reflexively reached for them, but one look in her eyes told him that was a bad idea.

"What is it?" his voice was husky with craving.

"We can't do this."

"Because you're married," he assumed aloud. Guilt flooded him; he had just kissed a married woman. He might have initiated the kiss, but what confused him was her reciprocation. She'd be crazy to deny her participation.

"What? No!"

"I thought the name change—Townsend—" he sputtered, stepping back.

"I changed my name to get off my Dad's radar!"

"So you're single?"

Kayla nodded.

"Then why can't we do this?"

"It's been eight years," she sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. She felt overheated and flushed at his proximity. "How can we tell we would work? We were only together for one night, and we weren't even official. If we got together, we might break up. If we break up, it leaves Andy in limbo between parents. I promised myself that he would have an uncomplicated childhood."

"You're looking at the worst case scenario!" he reasoned. "We were great together back then, and we'll be great together now!"

"You can't _possibly_ know that! Even back then, we were at each other's throats!"

"It was all part of the appeal! We had chemistry!"

Kayla's voice grew louder. "Chemistry doesn't promise a happy future! My parents always argued, and we do the same!"

"We don't argue with fists!"

"I want my kid to have the childhood I never had. Parents that love him, you know, happy memories! I highly doubt that listening to his parents yell and scream all day is hardly happy."

"What if we actually loved each other! What if we were able to give Andy a happy childhood! We were great together back then, even as friends."

Kayla stepped back; she needed distance between them to think. "But we _don't_ love each other! I can barely stand you!"

"Well if _that's_ how you feel!" Marty would never admit it, but her words cut deep. She didn't love him? Had she ever?

"It is!"

Marty gulped and looked at her evenly. "I think I should go."

"I think that's best," she replied, refusing to meet his eye.

He stalked toward the door, his boots loud in the silent room. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground until the door slammed behind him. For a split second, she contemplated running after him, but just as quickly, the impulse vanished.

She was alone in the house, and this time, she was sure Marty wouldn't return.


	13. Chapter 13

"Is it possible to be in love with someone you haven't seen in years? Say…eight?"

Pat stocked supplies in the Cooking for Kids kitchen as Kayla washed the pots. The older lady had played a big role in getting her the building space on the one condition that she be brought into the business. They were partners. Pat played the role of assistant and back-office while Kayla worked her magic with the food.

"Why?" the landlady asked amusedly. "Are you in love with someone you haven't seen in eight years?"

"I don't know!" she sighed dramatically. "I hate the bastard for ruining my life, but I also want to kiss his face."

Pat stopped stocking to look at Kayla. It didn't take a genius to figure out the true topic of discussion. "Did he really ruin your life?"

"He left me alone for my dad to mess me up."

"So, nothing good came out of this?"

Kayla's face screwed up in thought. "No?"

"Let's see," Pat started, "You had an amazing son, you got the courage to get away from your father, you built your own life, started your own business…need I go on?"

"Damn you!"

"Look, I don't know about love, but you need to stop blaming this guy for your life. If anything, you should thank him."

"Well, that's unlikely," Kayla growled.

"I'm not saying it's been roses and sunshine," Pat smiled, "but you're better off now than you were then."

"Even if I admit to that, how can I trust him again?"

"You can let him earn it, just don't shut him out. I know you well enough that you'll resist the obvious. What did he do anyway?"

"He promised to protect me then chose his career over a promise."

"Wow," Pat breathed. "That's blatant."

Kayla was glad _someone_ thought she was right.

"But—it sounds like a one-time thing. You're going to have to forgive him eventually."

"What are you, the angel on my shoulder?"

"You need someone to get you out of your head," she said wisely. "Look, I'm not saying forgive him now, but you will need to work through this."

"Patricia O'Neal, you are better than a therapist."

"So I've been told."

* * *

Deeks jumped as a wad of paper collided with his head. Snapping up, he saw Sam and Kensi laughing at their desks.

"Funny. I will get you, you wait." He ran his hand through his hair one more time and sighed. Keeping with the trend of the past few days, he could not keep Kayla out of his mind. She had told him to get out; she couldn't deal with one kid and an overgrown child father who was unpredictable. She told him to get out of her life.

"Hey, Deeks," Kensi stood in front of him, hands jammed into her back pockets. "If you can't handle this one, I'm sure Eric would be glad to get more field time." She smiled playfully, obviously teasing.

"I got it!" the irritated detective barked, causing Kensi to jump off his desk.

"Fine." The girl walked away, but not before giving him an odd look, and Deeks slammed his head on the desk.

From above, Nell had observed the whole exchange. Deeks was off, that didn't take an early expert. But it might take someone other than a sparring partner to get through to him.

He didn't raise his head as she sidled over to his desk.

"So," she began, a gentle curiosity piquing her voice. "You okay?"

"Not now, Nell," he growled halfheartedly.

She tried again. "Deeks, it doesn't take a genius to figure out something's up. You can tell me!"

Deeks lifted his head off of the desk just enough to see her face. The tech wizard scrunched up her elfin features and smiled. "Come on."

"Promise you won't tell anyone."

Nell nodded seriously. "Promise."

"I have a kid."

The girl gasped dramatically, and Deeks scrambled to stifle her.

"A kid? You?"

"Yeah."

"Who, what, when?" Nell was bursting with curiosity.

"I met her mom at the academy. Our car broke down...one thing led to another...anyway. I was commissioned for UC work the next day and left without telling her. You remember the one I locked up at that hotel bombing?"

"How could I forget? Eric and I watched that exchange in OPS wishing we had popcorn!"

"Glad I could entertain. Anyway, that's the mom, and that's the first time I've seen her in eight years."

"So what's the plan?"

"That's just it. Seeing her again...all these...feelings..." Deeks looked sick talking about his emotions, "came back and I want to be a part of her life, and Andy's."

"Wait—you have feelings?" Nell teased, but checked herself. "Sorry."

He didn't seem to notice. "Yesterday, she told me she wants nothing to do with me."

Nell exhaled loudly. "Well, you do have a reputation."

"This isn't about the reputation, she knows about that, and knows me better than that. She doesn't think I'd be a good father. I'm unpredictable, and she feels that Andy wouldn't be able to count on me as a dad. They've been doing the single parent thing for 8 years, I probably would mess everything up."

"How does she feel about you?"

"She hasn't told me; she runs hot and cold. One minute we're…" he coughed, looking at Nell's to-eager face, "...and the next we're arguing and she's telling me to get out."

Nell smiled. "She's in love with you."

"It's been eight years, Nell."

"Eight years or not, there's no doubt about it. But she's doing the selfless thing by putting her kid first. Until you prove you can do the same, you'll be stuck in the doghouse."

"How do I prove it if she's told me to stay away?"

Nell stood, putting her hands on her petite hips. "What am I? The guru on the mountain? Uh, uh. You have to figure that one out on your own."

Ugh. Women and their riddles, Deeks groaned inwardly. "Fine. I'll figure something out."

* * *

Marty stared at his phone. Should he call her? There was no way in hell he was letting this go. Twenty-four hours ago, he didn't have anyone attached to his name; even Kayla didn't qualify as a need. Sure, he wanted her, but he could cut loose if he wanted to. Now, with Andy, he realized that he had a goal similar to Kayla's: give Andy a happy childhood and erase his father's legacy. But _how_? Kayla had made it clear she didn't want to see him again. He looked to the phone again.

He dialed the number.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

_"Hello, you've reached Kayla Townsend!"_

He hung up instinctively at the time of her voice. Breathing heavily, he gripped the phone so hard, his knuckles turned white.

_Voicemail,_ he grumbled inwardly. _Fan-freaking-tastic_.

Gathering his courage, he hit redial.

_"Hello, you've reached Kayla Townsend! If you are calling regarding catering, please leave a short summary of your request, the date of service, name, and number. If you are calling for myself or Andy, please leave your name and number, and I will be with you shortly."_

"Don't hang up!" he exclaimed, prefacing his words so she'd listen. "Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I want to meet him. Officially. I won't force you, but I have that right. Just for a couple of hours; it doesn't have to be long. Please."

The machine beeped and he ended the call, praying that she would call him back.

* * *

"…_I have that right. Just for a couple of hours; it doesn't have to be long."_ His sigh was audible. _"Please."_

Kayla's jaw clenched. She was mortified at his audacity. She was even more upset that he was right. She couldn't keep her son from his father forever. Hating every move, she pulled his number up.

_Ring._

"Yes?" he picked up instantly.

"Okay."

"What?" Deeks barely caught her whispered words.

"Okay, you can meet him."

He could barely contain his excitement; the smile spread across his face. "Great! When?"

"Friday, after school. You can meet me outside the doors."

Silence fell on the line.

"Kaye, what happened back at your apartment?" Deeks broke the quiet.

"A mistake. You are the father of the child that I raised. We have to put him first."

"Since when are you so calculating?"

"Since you got me pregnant," she replied shortly. "I may have my dream job and a great kid, but my relationships aren't my own anymore."

"When I met you, everything changed. You took a shy girl who avoided conflict like the plague and taught me to put myself out there-to an outspoken girl who stands up for herself. I'm not afraid of people or conflict anymore."

"Damn straight you're not afraid of conflict; all you've done since I saw you is pick fights. I taught you to stand up for yourself, not push the mental opponent over. I didn't teach you to be a frigid bitch. Maybe someone needs to introduce love back into your life," Deeks offered suggestively.

_Frigid bitch? _

Seething with anger, it took all of Kayla's self-control to keep her voice steady. "Okay, you're never meeting my kid."

"Why not?"

"I am not a one-night stand. Piss me off and Andy will be a dim memory for you. "

"Relax! It's not like I'm going to steal him from you." Deeks pushed his luck, but seriously! Who put her knickers in a bunch?

"You know, Marty, I have wondered for eight years what it would be like to see you again. The dreams were fantastic. Utterly mind blowing."

Deeks began to drool.

"Then, I actually saw you again. I was disgusted. You're the worst parts of the person you were at the academy, only a thousand times more."

Silence.

"If you plan on meeting my kid, you damn well better respect me as his mother."

She took his silence as the answer and hung up. Marty's line clicked, indicating the call's end. He leaned back, exhaling.

_When did this prude get so bitter?_


	14. Chapter 14

I am having a lot of trouble falling asleep tonight, so I'm posting instead. I will admit it-this chapter is a favorite of mine.

* * *

"Who likes mac'n'cheese?" Kayla asked her class enthusiastically.

The kids squealed, and parents clapped. In the background, the door slammed opened.

"I like it, I like it!"

Kayla's eyes snapped up, glaring at the newcomer. "Marty, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the class!"

"It's a parent-kid class, genius." Kayla raised an eyebrow. "So unless you brought an adult, you need to leave."

"Oh, I didn't bring a kid, but I don't need to leave." He turned to Andy, sitting in a corner with the iPad. "Hey, want to help me out, Sport?"

Kayla's jaw dropped as Andy skipped over to Deeks. "Marty, you bas—"

He stopped her, placing his hand on her arm and whispering in her ear. "There are kids present, darling. Hold it together."

"You are walking a very fine line," she spat back through gritted teeth, jerking her arm away. Forcing a smile, she turned back to the class. "Okay, so what's your favorite part about macaroni and cheese?"

A small girl in the front raised her hand. "Cheeeeeese," she giggled. The rest of the room echoed her laugh.

"Anyone else?"

"That crunchy stuff around the edge when you bake it," an older boy offered.

"Right! Well, I have asked everyone I could find their favorite part of macaroni and cheese. I mixed them all together in my brain and made about fifteen recipes. This was everyone's favorite. Andy," Kayla indicated him at the end of the counter, "is my taste tester, and he heartily agrees. I call it…the Ultimate Awesomest Spectacular Fantastic Macaroni and Cheese."

The kids' eyes widened with anticipation.

"Your recipe cards are in front of you, and the ingredients are in the cabinets and fridges over there." Kayla indicated the area. "First up, you need to boil the macaroni. Have your parents help you with the stove."

There was a shuffle for pasta and the clatter of pots. Kayla laughed to herself as Deeks plopped the silver pot on Andy's head, clanging it with a spoon. Of course, the idea spread, and soon, nearly all the kids had pots on their heads.

"Everybody!" she called, but the tin sound drowned her voice out. "Hey!"

There was no response. Deeks grinned at her, but didn't stop.

"HEY!"

The clanging stopped; Deeks and Andy looked up at her guiltily. The rest of the class froze. Kayla lifted her hands, index fingers extended.

Kayla broke out a wide smile. "All together now!"

The banging began again, with Kayla conducting the whole show. With one swoop of the arm, she closed her fists, signaling the stop. A thrill ran through her when they actually stopped on command.

Exaggerating exhaustion, she leaned over, breathing hard. "Okay! Unless you want hair in your pasta, everyone put their dirty pots in the giant sink over yonder and get fresh ones!"

Kayla spent the next half hour helping parent child couplings work through the recipe. Though she made a conscious effort to avoid Deeks, but he was surprisingly low-maintenance. Still, Kayla watched them out of the corner of her eye. He made difficult to focus; he was wonderful with Andy.

He watched the stove like a hawk, careful not to let Andy touch the burner. Marty snuck taste tests, tossed cheese in Andy's mouth, and generally messed with him in a very adorable manner. Kayla couldn't help smiling to herself.

Likewise, Marty was impressed with Kayla's talent to teach the children, handle the adults, and hold it all together. It was clear this was her passion. Her eyes glinted just like they had the moment she told him this was what she wanted. Her hair was pulled back neatly into a bun. Her blonde roots framed her face, fading into the dyed brown hair, and her face was makeup free. She was in no way conventionally beautiful; her face was undeniably plain. But her eyes lit up when she spoke to the kids or tasted their handiwork. She was sure to compliment every child, including her own. Andy was lucky to have her for his mother.

"Okay, everyone, time to put these in the oven!" she exclaimed. "About…FACE!"

The class turned, and the parents put the casserole dishes into the oven.

"Snack time!" Andy yelled.

"Cookies and milk in the lounge!" Kayla watched the exodus of children and parents running to the home-cooked goodies.

Deeks hung back, finally sidling up beside Kayla.

"So, this qualifies as respect?" she smirked.

He wasn't sure if she was mad or not. "I had to find some way to prove myself."

"I have to admit, you behaved like a grown up."

"I'm flattered," he laughed, gazing down at her. She shifted her eyes away and he changed the subject. "So this is what you do."

"Yup. I don't spend my whole day up in my apartment baking cupcakes."

"That is true; I only think of you as the cupcake baker. Forget 'mother of my son'."

Kayla hip-checked him lightly. "That and caterer of explosive events."

Deeks suppressed a chuckle. "That's classified."

"You're classified," Kayla retorted not-so-cleverly.

"Actually, I am."

"Shut up, idiot."

Andy popped his head between them, chocolate chips smeared all over his face.

"These cookies are awesome."

"You don't say…" Deeks flashed Kayla a mock-worried look. The kid's teeth were caked with chocolate.

"You don't believe me?" Andy asked, his eyebrows rising. He held up the cookie as far as he could. "Taste it."

Deeks took the cookie, smiling down at Andy. He nibbled comically at it before taking a large bite.

"Oh, my, goodness," he gasped. "This is delicious. I need milk!"

Andy jumped and bolted for the milk station, returning just as quickly with the drink.

"Thanks, Andy," Deeks laughed, bowing to retrieve the milk. Andy skipped off to talk to the other kids.

* * *

The kitchen was empty. Andy lay asleep on the lounge sofa, the parents and kids gone, and Deeks helped Kayla clear the pots and pans. They stood side by side at the sink, Deeks scrubbing and Kayla rinsing. Music played in the background, but the sound of the water drowned it out.

"You were really good with Andy tonight, Deeks."

"I had fun. You know, you're pretty good at this, too."

"It took a lot of work to get here, that's for sure, but I'm glad that it gives me the freedom to put more of the mom into working mom."

"You told me you wanted to do this at the Academy before Andy was born."

Kayla blinked, surprised he even remembered. "You're right! I think I even said that the night we…" she trailed off.

Deeks handed her a pot. "The night we slept together?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ever think about being a parent? I mean, before you knew about Andy."

He hesitated for a moment. "I wanted to be a dad so I could do everything better than my dad."

"You wanted to erase his legacy?"

"Yeah, but I had no idea when. I wanted to wait until I met the right girl."

Kayla smiled sadly.

"You know what's funny?" Deeks asked, handing her another pot.

"What?"

Back then, I began to think you were the right girl."

Blushing, Kayla met his eye. "Well then, I guess you're lucky it ended up being me."

"I did get lucky," he grinned down at her, taking her hand.

Kayla waited for his gutter mind to catch up to the 'that's what she said' moment. Give it a minute…

He murmured a laugh worthy of Barney Stintson. "Heh, lucky."

Dropping his hand, Kayla grabbed a handful of bubbles and blew them in his face. Sputtering, he regained his footing and retaliated with a splash of water. Soap and water flew. Kayla had pieces of pasta in her hair, Deeks's perfectly imperfect hair was flat and soap-spattered. The ground was slippery; Kayla knew she was going down, and grabbed Deeks to steady herself. They went down together, landing with a splat on the soaked floor.

"Truce?" Deeks asked finally.

"Truce," Kayla nodded, looking up at him. "I missed you."

Picking a piece of pasta out of her hair, he kissed the top of her head. "I missed you too."


	15. Chapter 15

Kensi Blye sat in the bullpen, twirling a pencil absentmindedly on her desk. Across from her, Deeks hummed to himself, smiling now and then, while filling out a police report. He had been acting oddly over the past few days. Granted, odd was commonplace with him, but this was something new.

"What report is that?" She asked casually, moving to look over his shoulder.

Instinctively, he covered tilted the screen so she couldn't see. "The assault report from last week?"

"Yup," he replied. Though the charges against Kayla had been dropped, her LAPD file contained a lot of holes that needed filling in. Kensi thought she noticed an edge in his voice, but attributed it to general annoyance. For an obnoxious guy, he was easily frustrated when pressed for information.

Kensi knew the only way he shared information was when he defended his reputation. As much fun as it was to see him flustered, she deduced that this was not one of those times.

"Kayla Miles, right?" She prodded gently.

"That's the one."

Sexual conquests were one of the few subjects he shared openly, but she was getting nothing.

"What's the story there?"

"I already told you everything you need to know."

"There has got to be something more, I mean, she really went to town on your face. I thought I was the only girl allowed to punch you."

"Obviously, not."

He wasn't giving anything up, and Kensi grew more frustrated with him. "Have you gone to visit her?" She asked, pushing her luck. It was like poking a bear—with a cattle prod.

"Why?" He answered her question with one of his own. His voice was hard and challenging.

Kensi chose her words carefully. "It's just, I've never seen you so worked up over some girl. She isn't even your type."

He looked at her evenly. "Well, then, you don't know my type." His voice indicated the conversation was over. Uploading the file, he closed the computer, he stood abruptly and stalked away.

The punching bag was located on the second tier of the Californian style NCIS headquarters. Sunlight always streamed through the rafters, warming the adobo floors. This place was a far cry from the Spartan bullpen of the LAPD police department. Here, green plants stood in every corner-there was even a palm tree right next to the stairs! That building was stifling to return to after days-or weeks-on the job. It made him feel hemmed in, similar to the courtrooms he used to frequent. But this office made him feel freer; he could breathe, with room to stretch. Even as he maintained his LAPD status, NCIS was more home than any other place he'd worked.

Home meant family, and family meant frustration from time to time. Usually, the team teased him lightheartedly, but they only pressed him about his past when absolutely necessary. Kensi, on the other hand, had a bad habit of pumping him for information whenever she was bored or concerned. She knew about his father, but even Deeks hadn't told her that nugget of wisdom-Hetty had. She didn't know about his mother, and he certainly wasn't going to tell her about Kayla. With that information would come concern, advice, and teasing, and he didn't want Kayla mixed up in that.

He punched the bag to let off steam, grunting with each hit. With Kayla already on his mind, it didn't take long for him to think of the first time she had punched the bag. Her face was scared at first, then determined. Her nose had scrunched up, her lips pursed like a four-year-old stubbornly refusing to give in. She unleashed everything on that bag, so determined to break away from that which haunted her. When she was faint with exhaustion, he remembered, she placed her forehead on his shoulder. He asked her what she was fighting.

I don't trust you enough for that.

He had painstakingly gained her trust, and he had no desire to cheapen it for the sake of Kensi's curiosity.

But Kensi wasn't about to give up that easily. Something was distracting her partner, and she needed to know. In the field, distraction often meant a bullet to the heart. She could never bear to see Deeks hurt again, an if she got caught when he wasn't looking, that would be the end of her. She needed to know that he had her back, and that meant a little unauthorized investigation. That meant her going to Kayla's apartment.

She chose a time of day when Deeks was sure to be working out, grabbed the assault file, and drove to the listed address.

The weekend passed quickly for Kayla. Deeks hadn't stopped by since the cooking class, and Kayla couldn't tell if she wanted him to call or not. Andy was none the wiser about Marty's true identity. Kayla decided it was better that way, at least for the time being. She had to be sure that Marty was serious about his desire to be a part of Andy's life.

There was a knock on the door, and Kayla's heart leapt. Was that him now? One glance through the peephole informed her otherwise. To her surprise, Kensi Blye stood in her threshold.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi, I just have a few follow-up questions regarding last week's explosion. Can I come in?"

"Sure! What can I do for you?" It was highly unlikely that this was an official visit, considering NCIS had caught the culprit for the bombing _and_ she had already been brought in for questioning—if one could call it that. Kayla put on a smile and let the agent in.

Kensi stepped inside, glancing around the kitchen, as Kayla went to the sink. The agent's eyes noticed photos of a young boy, about seven, arranged on a bookshelf.

"Is this your son?"

"Yeah," she smiled proudly. "He looks like his father, doesn't he?"

"His father?"

"Marty," she explained.

Kensi blinked, trying to cover up her shock, but Kayla could tell that Marty hadn't told her anything. Her instincts told her to proceed with caution, but she wanted to have a little fun first. Kayla and Marty shared a deep dislike for people prodding into their pasts, even if they were partners. She sat, motioning for Kensi to do the same.

"So, aren't you a little high-ranking to be performing house calls?"

"This was an official NCIS case; we like to keep our investigations in-house." Her voice was metered and professional.

"So, where's your backup?"

Kensi glanced sideways instinctively, locating the door. "Why?"

"Agents only perform follow-up questions if the case is still open. If the case is still open, you have a suspect in mind, maybe even me. I mean, after all, the bomb exploded under my cake. If that were the case, and I was actually dangerous, you would really want backup. If I were to divulge information or even confess, no one would be there to corroborate your story. Even easier than fighting words with words, I could kill you, right here. I know enough not to leave any evidence. I was a cop, after all."

The monologue was delivered deadpan, the words flowing quickly so as to make sure Kensi didn't have a chance to cut her off. The agent stared at her, unsure whether to take her seriously or not.

"Are you responsible for the hotel bombing?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course not!" Kayla broke character, smiling at the flustered agent. "But I do know that you're not here on official business. Spill."

Kayla folded her arms, eyebrows raised, voice commanding. Kensi looked at Kayla with respect for the first time. Forget the humor when Kayla had socked him in the jaw, or the sparring match between the Kayla and her partner, this was genuine respect. Kayla had proved she was a formidable opponent to cross verbal swords with. She was smart, relatively attractive, and quick on her feet. Kensi could see why Deeks liked Kayla so much.

"I came to ask what you've done to my partner."

"I'm sorry?" Kayla was confused.

"New Years' Day, he was moody, distracted, and irritable. Now, he's humming tunes, lost in his thoughts, and still distracted. I need him sharp! You need to fix this."

"So it's my fault?" Kayla couldn't help but laugh. "All I did was introduce him to his son."

"He didn't know about the kid?" This was solid information.

"No," Kayla clarified. "I raised Andy by myself. The bombing was the first time I'd seen him in eight years."

"Oh." Things became clearer. Kensi's mind went into overdrive wondering what could be done.

"Look," Kayla leaned forward on the table, "I know how important trust between partners is; I was a cop myself."

Kensi knew this, leaning back as Kayla continued, "I would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship as partners, but I also have to look out for my son. Whether or not Marty stays in our lives, I'll do my best to uphold that. I'll be your ally if you'll help me out from time to time. I'm not asking for your loyalty; I know that belongs to Deeks. I am asking, however, that you leave Marty and I to sort out our differences on our own. If he's anything like the guy eight years ago, he'll keep his issues to himself until they are relevant or he needs help. I'm very alike in that regard, and I hope you'll respect that."

Kensi nodded, taking in her words. Stubbornness and concern for her partner made it difficult to accept that he might not always need her input in his personal matters. Marty had a tendency to push himself into her life despite her efforts against it, but she realized that he probably felt the same way about his personal life. Granted, she kept most secrets private just so she could tease him with vague details, but Marty kept them for a reason. For all his sunshine smiles and twinkling eyes, her partner had a serious dark side.

"Okay."

"Great!" Kayla smiled. "Want a cupcake?"

With that, the sober atmosphere was broken. The cupcake was tempting, but Kensi knew if she went missing for too long, Deeks would look for her, or worse, he would come to Kayla's house and discover her there. Still, she could never resist chocolaty sweets.

"Can I have it to go?"

* * *

As Kayla predicted, Marty called that afternoon.

"Hey!" Kayla answered the phone, cursing herself for sounding so eager. Reminding herself to give him a chance, she held down the impulse to lash out.

"Afternoon," he drawled. "How are you?"

Small talk had never been Kayla's forte. "Your partner stopped by today."

"Shit, really?" His voice was a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

"It's okay," Kayla reassured, "we got along."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I told her to leave well enough alone."

Was he ashamed of her? Kayla pushed down the feeling that she was slighted. Maybe he hadn't told her partner for the same reasons she hadn't told Andy: he wasn't sure he was sticking around. "She's just concerned that you're so distracted she'll end up with a bullet in her back."

"Does she know about Andy?"

"I thought she already knew," Kayla replied apologetically.

"Okay,"' he sighed. "Well, I was wondering if you, Andy, and I could do something this afternoon."

Kayla bit her lip. Eventually, they would have to hang out together. There was no way she would leave Andy alone with Marty; she didn't trust him enough for that. "What'd you have in mind?"


	16. Chapter 16

Venice Beach was one of the many wonders of the California coast. The boardwalk held a myriad of little trinket shops and beachwear stores, all fun to explore. The boardwalk itself was teeming with all sorts of street performers: balloon men, fortune tellers, statue men, break dancers, musicians, and even more odd talents, all congregated on one long beach. A few yards away, the ocean crashed on the sun washed shore.

Andy took to Deeks like a fish to water. Kayla had never seen him click so well with anyone. She supposed it was inevitable; they were so similar. When they traded the boardwalk for the water, Marty chased Andy through the sand, tackling him in the surf. They had bought a Frisbee, Marty's treat, and tossed it back and forth. The sound of Andy and Marty's mixed laughter was surreal, and she smiled over at them. Marty made a particularly impressive catch, instinctively looking to Kayla for approval. He tossed it back to Andy as she clapped dramatically.

She pulled off her shirt, glad for the sunlight warming her skin. Though she didn't want to admit it, she had put a lot of thought into her swimsuit choice. She owned a bikini and loved it, but she didn't want to give Marty the wrong idea. Similarly, she passed on her one-piece due to its prudish nature, opting for a striped blue tankini.

The sight of Kayla stripping distracted Marty long enough for the Frisbee to whack him in the head. Andy doubled over with laughter, and Marty chased after him again. He caught Andy, carrying him into the water with a huge splash. Rubbing the water out of his face, he chanced another glance at Kayla. Her skin was tanned, her legs firm from her daily runs. Similarly, her arms were toned from hours at the shooting range. His eyes naturally fell on her chest, and he thanked the halter top for displaying them beautifully.

She struggled with her sunscreen, reaching for her back. Giving up, she sat down on the towel. Marty couldn't resist. He rose from the water, the salty liquid rolling off his skin. His muscles, more defined than her memory allowed, glinted in the sunlight. Kayla felt herself drooling and shook her head to clear it.

"Do you need help with that?" The situation was so cliché, Kayla resisted a roll of the eyes.

"Okay," she allowed.

He knelt behind her as she handed him the bottle. Her skin was familiar under his fingertips, but he knitted his eyebrows together as he saw new scars. They hadn't been there eight years ago. Kayla tensed as he ran his hand over one tenderly.

"I cut myself on a broken door."

Her excuse was weak. He almost called her out on the lie; they both knew where it had come from, and he blamed himself. He resisted the urge to kiss it, forcing himself to move onward. Too soon, he was done. Kayla turned to him; they found themselves face to face. Breath intermingled, and Kayla's mind clouded.

"Mom!" Andy rushed forward, seashells in hand. "Look what I found!"

Kayla broke away, turning her attention to her son. "Wow, those are beautiful!"

"They're for you!" He handed Kayla all but one.

"Marty, this is for you," he said shyly, offering the final shell to his father.

Marty's heart swelled with pride. Was this what it felt like to have a son? He was thrilled with every new thing Andy did, from the way he danced from booth to booth to the way he looked to Deeks for approval when he caught the Frisbee. Kayla knew that look, and she smiled softly. Maybe Marty could play the part of father.

"I'm going to find more!" Andy ran off down the beach.

"Not too far!" Kayla and Marty called simultaneously, standing together.

"You might actually be able to pull off this dad thing after all!" she nudged him goodnaturedly.

Deeks nudged her in return. "Yeah. We did make a pretty cool kid. "

He looked down at Kayla. Her hair tangled against her face; she pushed it back and smiled up at him.

"Kayla, what happened to our friendship?"

"You got me pregnant, bucko," Kayla replied poking him in the gut. "After one night. Then you left."

"Well, it was one great night."

"Psh. Sleeping with you was like making love to a Neanderthal."

"Ah, the manliest of men."

"Overly eager, testosterone-filled, hygiene-ignorant men."

Deeks smirked. "But still manly, right?"

"If it makes you feel better. Bouncing around in the back of that car gave me bruises!"

"I was just too much of a man for you," he smirked.

"Unlikely," the girl scoffed. "Well, now I have more padding." She leaned forward, poking him in the chest.

"We might have to have a rematch." Deeks laughed, hoping she was referring to what he thought she was referring to.

"Maybe. But you'll have to be a good boy." She smacked him smartly on the cheek and took off running, the detective not far behind.

"That night," he panted when they finally came to a stop. "You said you wouldn't have any more meaningless sex. You knew it wouldn't be meaningless with me. Why push back?" He looked cute, even with his face pink from running.

"You know…" she said shyly, "you had a reputation, and I didn't want you to think of me as a girl that didn't know what she was doing. I didn't think you would respect my body."

Deeks rolled his head to look at her. "I would have never thought that, not with you." He paused. "You know, all those girls dumped me, saying that I didn't respect them or their bodies."

Kayla smirked, remembering all the times she had witnessed the breakups and his clueless reactions.

"The truth is, I didn't understand; I didn't respect girls…until you."

"Deeks, you're going soft!" she teased.

"Let me finish! I respected you, and that's why you stood out. That's why I didn't make a move until that night. We didn't fuck, it wasn't even sex. It was love. I loved you back then; I just never got a chance to tell you."

A smile crept onto Kayla's face as she beheld Deeks's truthful grin.

"You know," she replied, "the day you disappeared was a nightmare for me. I tore the place apart looking for you. I refused to believe you weren't coming back. Even if it wasn't your fault, I felt like a one-night stand—a throwaway. You said you would protect me, then I was thrust into the worst time of my life-alone."

Deeks lifted his hand to touch her cheek before resting it on her shoulder. "I never meant to do that to you."

She nodded, sighing. "You should know, I have a lot of trust issues. I don't want to be loved and left, or loved and dumped. If we're going to do this, we need to do it right; it's not just our hearts on the line. I'm protective of Andy, too. He's grown up without a father, and so far, we've got it handled. Shaking that up is dangerous. I don't want a son with abandonment issues."

He nodded seriously, affirming her statement. "Understood."

At that moment, Andy gave a call from the beach, "Take a look at this!"

The twosome jogged to their son, who held up a fresh conch with pride.

"Honey, that's so cool!"

"It looks like a giant tongue!" Andy laughed, holding it up to his father.

Deeks balked, creeped out. "Yes…I guess it does." He looked sick. "Why don't we put that back in the ocean where it can breathe?"

Andy looked down at the shell creature and then at his mom who was holding back a laugh.

"Honey, let's send the conch home."

"Okay," Andy replied sadly. He tossed the shell back into the waves.

The sun was setting; the evening breeze brought a chill that made Kayla shiver. Instinctively, Marty put his arm around her in an effort to warm her. Though she tensed, she didn't refuse it, curling closer to him for warmth. One glance in her eyes informed Marty that she was uncomfortable with this arrangement, but she was too polite to argue in front of Andy. He really hoped he could avoid the inevitable fight about personal space, so he lowered his arm, choosing instead to hand her his jacket. She thanked him awkwardly, taking Andy's hand. The kid offered his hand to Marty. The parents shared a glance as Marty took the proffered hand. Connected by their child, the threesome continued down the beach.

* * *

And so began the days of Deeks. From picking up Andy from school with Kayla to stopping by for dinner, to playing in the park on weekends, Marty played the perfect father.

They fell into an enjoyable but superficial routine. Kayla did her best to keep the conversation light, focused away from those topics which inevitably led to an argument. Deeks liked the freedom to choose single or family life from one night to the next, so he didn't push his luck. Andy loved having Deeks around. Someone to wrestle with was welcome, and Deeks enjoyed teaching Andy new things-things Kayla would never have thought of.

Deeks could throw a baseball just as well as the next guy, but he was best at soccer. The two of them spent hours dribbling the ball in the park across the street. At first, Kayla watched from the apartment window, worried for Andy's safety. Days passed, and that worry changed to happiness. She watched, a wistful smile on her face, as Deeks showed off, bouncing the ball from knee to knee, then laughed softly when he lost his balance.

Andy could think of nothing else to talk about. He named an action figure after Marty, he drew pictures of and for him, and ran for the door every time he visited. Any time he went out with Marty, he regaled her with every minute of every day.

After one such day of adventuring, Kayla watched Marty tell Andy a bedtime story. She leaned against the threshold, a soft smile on her face. His face was animated as he spun a story about Captain America, his friend Bucky, and the evil Red Skull. As the plot developed, Marty waved his hands, telling the tale complete with voices for everyone. It was absolutely adorable. Marty glanced up to see Kayla gazing intently at him. She wiped a piece of hair from her forehead with a soapy hand, returning his smile.

When he was done, he headed into the kitchen and Kayla moved to Andy's bedside.

"What song do you want tonight, buddy?"

"Wait—you sing for him, but not me?"

"He isn't old enough to judge my voice. You, on the other hand, might. Now scoot so I can tell my son goodnight."

He laughed silently, turning away and cracking the door behind him, but stood beside the door to hear.

"Now," she laughed. "Nothing techno; you know how hard it is to drop a bass with my voice."

Andy giggled. "Fine. Bohemian rhapsody?"

Marty grinned widely. His kid had good taste.

"How about a different Queen song."

"_Fine_," he whined. "Somebody to Love?"

"Agreed."

"_Each morning I get up I die a little; can't hardly stand on my feet…"_

Her voice was surprisingly good. It had a unique quality to it, smoky, just like she had described. Though the voice was unremarkable in skill, he was mesmerized.

"_I get down on my knees and I start to pray til the tears run down from my eyes. Lord somebody—somebody—somebody—can anybody find me somebody to love?"_

Marty took a chance, opening the door a few inches more; he needed to hear better.

"_I just gotta get out of this prison cell, someday, I'm gonna be free, Lord!"_

He couldn't tell if she sang those words with extra conviction or not; the crescendo held more passion than the rest. Did she really feel trapped? He reminded himself that Andy picked the song. The door swung open further, and Kayla spotted him. He grimaced like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Kayla kissed Andy on the forehead, tucking him in, then crept silently out of the room.

"You, sir, have been eavesdropping. I told you that I wouldn't sing for you. That was between Andy and I."

"I think it was great! You singing to your kid, that's really sweet. I like seeing you let your guard down; Andy's the only person you risk that with."

"He has yet to develop distinguishing taste.

Silence fell; Marty watched Kayla wash the dishes, he cleaned up the table. They danced around each other in the age old tradition of quiet companionship.

Kayla glanced up, wiping a piece of hair from her forehead with a soapy hand. She read the peace in his gaze and smiled wryly.

"It's time, isn't it?" she asked, fear barely touching her voice.

He nodded. "It's time."

"When do you want to tell him?"

"I believe you're supposed to make that decision," Deeks smiled.

She blushed in response. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow."


	17. Chapter 17

But tomorrow had plans of its own. It started out as a quiet afternoon. Kayla and Andy played cards, cookies baking in the oven.

"I de-clare war!" They spoke together, laying their cards out.

"Oh, I am wounded!" Kayla gasped as Andy won the round. The boy giggled, raking in his cards.

"I wish Marty could play with us," Andy mused.

"He'll be here soon, you can ask him then," Kayla suggested, tapping her cards to straighten them.

Andy paused thoughtfully before laying down his card. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Kayla composed her face before responding. "Why?"

"He's always here, and you never had any guys over before him."

"Well, sweetie, he's just a friend."

"Are you going to date him?"

"Andy!" Kayla admonished. "No, I'm not going out with him."

"I think you should date him."

"Who have you been talking to?" Kayla wondered if Marty had put him up to this.

"Nobody," he replied innocently.

"Why would I want another man in my life when I already have you? You make me the happiest mommy alive."

"Mom, I know I make you happy. But when Marty is here, you're more happy."

"_Happier_," Kayla corrected, glossing over the content of his last remark.

The doorbell rang, and Kayla blessed the distraction.

"It's Marty!" Andy exclaimed, racing to the door. Kayla followed, laughing at his enthusiasm.

He swung the door open, but Deeks was not on the other side. Kayla dropped the deck of cards, frozen in place. The man looked down at Andy, just as shocked. She regained her senses, clearing her throat.

"Andy, go to your room."

Her tone alone demanded instant obedience, but he had never heard her sound so scared. "Mom?"

"Just go."

The boy turned and jogged back to his bedroom, cracking his door just enough to hear what was happening.

"Alan," she greeted curtly. Both father and daughter stepped into the stairwell. Kayla firmly closed the door.

"Is that any way to greet your father?" he smiled. His grin was charming as ever. She wished she could punch it right off him, but nothing would lower her to his level.

"What are you doing here?" she replied fiercely.

"Hold your horses. I saw you got arrested, I'm checking up on you. Aren't fathers allowed to do that?"

"Firstly, the charges were dropped. Secondly, no, you aren't allowed to check up on me. You aren't my father. You lost that right the moment you tried to kill my unborn son."

He was unmoved. "_My _son!" he emphasized. "That's him isn't it? The boy? Handsome bastard isn't he?"

She blocked the door, crossing her arms. "That bastard is my son."

"So, can I see my boy?"

"No. You'll never lay a hand-or a finger-on him. At least one of us can go on without the damage you did to me."

"You would deny me my own son?" The vein in his neck pulsed angrily.

"You're the one that wanted him dead."

The sheriff lost his cool. His hand wrapped around her throat as he slammed her against the door.

"You know, you're just as weak as you were eight years ago. I could still snap your neck."

"I'm not afraid of you," Kayla gasped for air.

"Yes, you are," he laughed darkly.

"No, I'm not. You're just a big bully. A bully who needs to get his ass off my porch before I kick it down the stairs."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

"Wanna bet?" she smirked, the expression marred by a heavy wince.

Kayla closed her eyes. Menace or not, she didn't want to hurt him. Dizziness washed over her; she had no choice if she needed to breathe. Gathering her courage, she kneed him in the groin as hard as she could. He loosened his grip, allowing one hand to cradle the wounded area, but didn't let her go. Kayla took advantage of this to sweep his free arm away from her neck and punch him straight in the chest. He wheezed, but remained on his feet.

Face red from anger-or lack of oxygen, it was hard to tell-Kayla centered herself, trying to catch her breath. He recovered faster than her.

_WHAM!_

His fist cut straight to her cheek so fast, she wondered if one could get whiplash in a fight. She touched her face automatically. It smarted in response; her father's ring had left a smart cut along her cheekbone.

She clutched the doorframe, refusing to budge or fall. "You won't get past me. Not this time."

The hand raised once more to strike her.

"Hey!" A call from the stairs stopped him mid-swing.

_Deeks!_ Kayla's heart leapt into her chest. He ran up, looking from father to daughter.

"Kaye, is this guy bothering you?"

Kayla nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but the sheriff cut her off. "Who are you?"

"A friend. Who are you?"

The sheriff turned his burly frame toward the detective, glaring down menacingly. "I'm her father."

Deeks looked to Kayla for confirmation. Her face, a mix of anger, fear, and relief, gave him his answer. "You're not welcome here."

The sheriff ignored him. "What kind of friend are you to my daughter anyway? Are you screwing her? You know she's a ruined whore, right?"

"What business? I'm your grandson's father. You know-the kid you wanted dead. And for your information, I am not 'screwing' your daughter, as you put it. You seem to have screwed her over well enough."

"You mean _my_ son," he yelled, turning on Deeks. The sheriff glanced at Deeks's belt, his eyes alighting on the detective's LAPD badge. "Young man, I could have your badge."

"Out of your jurisdiction," Deeks returned smugly.

"I outrank you."

Deeks frowned mockingly, his eyebrows raised, as if considering the threat. "Still out of your jurisdiction."

"I have friends in high places." The sheriff's eyes glinted with victory.

"I have friends in higher places," Deeks smirked, poking the sheriff in the chest. From Kayla's perspective it looked as though he had just poked a bear.

The sheriff's eye twitched, the neck vein throbbing dangerously. "Is that possible?"

The detective leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Do you think, for one second, that I would allow my grandson to be raised by this...dysfunctional character?" He directed the question to Kayla.

"You don't have a choice," Deeks spoke up. "He's my kid."

"Seriously?" The sherif whirled on Kayla. "You chose this douche?"

"I wouldn't go so far as douche..." he stipulated. Deeks caught Kayla's smirk out of the corner of his eye.

"I've been keeping my eyes open for any sign of your whereabouts. But you-you just start back up where you left off?"

"Contrary to popular belief, some of us put effort into our relationships," Deeks responded pointedly.

That was the final straw. The sheriff reared back his hand to strike, and Deeks had no time to react. A sickening thud echoed in the hallway, but Deeks found himself miraculously unharmed. His eyes turned to Kayla, blood just beginning to seep through a cut in her forehead. She swayed on her feet before collapsing. Deeks barely caught her, lying her gently on the ground.

Blood pounded in his temples. His fists clenched.

_Oof_! A punch to the gut. The sheriff doubled over.

_Smack_! A fist to the chin. The sheer velocity of the punches caused the sheriff's nose to bleed.

Deeks's eyes glinted murderously as he glared up at the sheriff. "Get. Out."

The look alone was enough to cause the sheriff to exit down the stairs, his dignity trailing behind him.

The moment he disappeared, Marty was at Kayla's side. She wavered on her feet before collapsing in his arms. Blood trickled from the wound on her cheek; her blackened eye swelled quickly. He pulled her inside, but once through the door, she fought to stand on her own two feet.

"Andy can't see me like this!"

She tried to cover her face, but it was too late.

"Mom!" Andy rushed into the room and wrapped his arms around Kayla.

Marty was just as quick on his feet. "Andy, go get some wet towels and band-aids," he barked.

The boy quickly complied. In the meantime, Marty tended to her wounds.

"Kaye, I'm sorry," he repeated, over and over, but she didn't care for his sympathy. Her mind was already churning.

"How the _hell_ did he get my address? I've been living under the radar for years." A thought occurred to her. "You didn't file a police report, did you?"

"Well, yeah; I wanted to fill in the blanks in your file. I didn't know!" His face was so tortured and apologetic.

Sucking accusations down, she breathed deeply. "I know, it's okay."

"No, it's not," he shook his head.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, lifting his chin. "You didn't know!"

"I should have seen the signs," he berated himself. "The holes in your file, the dyed hair, living under someone else's name. You didn't leave, you ran. You're in hiding, and I blew you cover."

"It's fine."

"It's _NOT_! Don't you see? I promised to protect you and failed, again."

"Is that what this is about?" The thought made her heart soar. She hated to admit it, but his pain was the best thing she'd seen in years. For the first time, she was reassured of his devotion. "Marty, you _did_ protect me! You got there in time to tell him off. I couldn't have stood up much longer."

She kissed his cheek gratefully; he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. It was the most action he'd had in a month, and it was from her.

"You're my hero."

"Well, you're mine," he returned. "You used the skills I taught you and you went to town on him."

"I had a good teacher." She returned his gaze with mutual respect.

Marty took pressed the rag to her forehead. "I see why you never introduced me to your dad."

"I might have warned you about his temper."

"No need to warn me; he's related to you. The temper is a given."

"Hey!" She slapped his arm.

Deeks applied pressure with the rag and she pulled away, wincing. He tried again, steadying her clean cheek with his hand.

"You should really get stitches."

She shook her head. "No, I'll be fine."

"Kaye, how often has this happened?"

"Off and on. I thought I'd lost him at this apartment, but the police report gave him my address."

"I mean growing up."

"All the time. Once mom died, he let his drinking take over. Whenever he was off the case, he was drinking and beating."

"He's a sheriff! How did he get away with it?"

"He created reasons, involved me in sports that would guarantee injuries. I took up running, and he painted me the klutz. I took up tennis, I suddenly got a reputation for tennis balls to the head, or leg, or arm, or wherever."

"I just don't believe it."

"You know how I sucked at boxing and grappling?"

"Yeah?"

"That's because I didn't want to learn how to do what he did."

"So what happened when you got pregnant?"

"I couldn't afford my own place, so I was living with him. He was still getting drunk and knocking me around, and when he found out I was pregnant, he told me to abort it. I said no, so he tried to beat it out of me instead. Before that, I had never had anything to fight for before Andy. I fought for my pregnancy, literally, and that night, I left—and never looked back."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"He was no longer a part of my life. Do you talk about your dad?"

Deeks grinned wryly. "Fair point."

"So we both have messed up pasts. It just makes us better people, better parents. We can raise a kid using what we learned from their mistakes."

"And we will never make any mistakes of our own," Deeks teased.

"Of course not."

He stroked her cheek absentmindedly; Kayla leaned in on impulse. It was so wonderful to feel his touch. She lived a life of self-denial, a life where she and Deeks could never be together. It was for Andy's own good. She was grasping at straws, but for the moment, she would rest for his hand on her cheek.


	18. Chapter 18

Suffice it to say, during the chaos of the day, they never got to telling Andy the truth about Marty. The subject moved to the back burner as Marty helped Kayla cope with her father's attack. She was taking it pretty hard.

"I've got to go, Marty," Kayla sighed. "Maybe this time I'll actually leave the country. I've always wanted to go to Mexico."

"Not this again," he rolled his eyes. "For the last time, you aren't moving."

Since Alan's appearance, Kayla came up with brand new plans to disappear every couple of hours—each more harebrained than the last.

"He knows where I live," she reasoned. "Andy and I need to get out."

"This decision is as much mine as it is yours. You can't bring my son into my life and then run away."

"This is the first time in five years he's located us, and he was pretty pissed."

"This is different," he pleaded. "He knows that Andy isn't his son, and besides, you've got me! I can't stand to see you disappear; not again. I promised to keep you safe, and I intend to do so."

Kayla blinked up at him. "I'm scared."

Wrapping her up in his arms, he whispered in his ear. "I know."

She was grateful that he didn't tell her not to be scared. That was impossible. Instead, he stood by her like a rock. Relaxing in his arms, she breathed deeply.

* * *

Nearly a week had passed since the incident with her father, but Kayla regressed by the day. Deeks was at a loss; it was like the fire in her eyes was extinguished. Before, she looked for every chance to argue, but now she responded to his prodding with grunts and one word answers.

He wracked his brain, trying to find a way to pull Kayla from her thoughts.

_Pat_.

He fairly bolted down the walkup to the apartment below. Pat was always home; honestly, he had no idea what she did for a living.

Gathering courage, he knocked on her door.

"Deeks," Pat greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"I need your help."

"Is this about Kayla?"

Deeks nodded.

"Come in."

The apartment looked as though it was pulled straight from a Pottery Barn catalogue; the decor was inviting, but the overall atmosphere was stark.

"What can I do for you?"

"Kayla's been really off since her dad stopped by. Have you ever seen her like this?"

"Once," Pat sighed, sitting on the sofa. "When I met her."

"How do you mean?"

"I think she suffers from situational depression."

"You think?" Marty returned sarcastically.

"This isn't depression like most people think," she explained, "Kayla's not about to go wearing black eyeliner and black clothes. Situational depression can last a few days to a few months, and it is frequently acute."

"So what do I do about it?"

"Get her out of the house, cheer her up, get her into the sunlight. I don't think this is bad enough for medication, but with a few prompts, I think she can get back to normal."

"You sound like a psychiatrist."

"I get that a lot."

"So, how _did_ you meet Kayla?" He sat across from her on the sofa.

"We met at a Denny's," she started, smiling distantly. "At the time, she was going by the name Kayla Davis."

"Her mom's maiden name," he interjected.

"Yes. She was working as a waitress in Poway."

"Poway? That's hours away from here!"

"Yes, but it was also hours away from her dad's jurisdiction. It didn't matter, though. The day I was there, the sheriff came barging in. Apparently, he had found her in the system. He didn't lay a hand on her, but the sheriff yelled at her. She didn't return anything; she cowered in the corner. It was the manager who made her leave.

"After her dad left, the manager fired her for providing a false name on her application. She collapsed in a booth across from Andy. He was only three at the time—thank goodness the sheriff never saw him—but he was scared. I went over to help, and we got to talking. She told me she was moving to get away from her dad, and I had space in LA. I told her I could help her."

"I have a hard time believing she trusted you so quickly."

"She didn't, but I told her I'd been there too. I've had to run away before, and I knew I could help. It was months before she smiled again."

"Well, we're both indebted to you."

"Kayla's become a bit of a daughter to me; I'm glad she has you now. If you need my help, just let me know."

* * *

"He came to see me today," Pat spoke into the phone as she watched Deeks leave.

"Does he suspect anything?"

"I don't think so—he wanted to know how I met Kayla."

"What did you tell him?"

"I said I met her the day her dad found her at Denny's."

"Did he buy it?"

"I think. I'm not a fan of lying to him."

"It's better if Mr. Deeks doesn't know the whole truth. Since when do you have issues lying? It's your job."

"You're saying psychiatry is a lie?"

"I'm referring to your _other_ career."

"I got out of that game for a reason. I'm only doing this as a favor to you."

"And I appreciate every day of your efforts."

* * *

"Hey, Sport," Marty glanced down at his son as he walked Andy back from school. "Is there anything you can think of that can cheer up your mom? Shopping or something?"

"Mom doesn't go shopping," Andy replied. "But whenever I'm sad, mom makes me pancakes in bed for breakfast."

"Well, if it works for you, it might work for her. Would you be up for helping me?"

Andy looked up at his father, a scheming grin so similar to his father's dancing upon his face. "I'm in."

* * *

Kayla woke from slumber and whipped her head about the room, trying to gage what may have startled her. No, she was alone in her room. She relaxed onto the pillow, only to crinkle her nose.

_Is that...pancakes?_

She stumbled out of bed and opened the door slowly so as not to be blinded by the kitchen light.

Andy and Marty screamed like girls in a locker room.

_Wait-Marty?!_ She looked down at her at her attire: short shorts and a camisole. A look of terror covered her face, as she wrapped her arms around her chest. She closed the door with the other. Looking to the mirror, she finger-combed her hair, slapped her cheeks, pulled on a hoodie, and dared to open the door again.

"Mom, go back to bed!" Andy yelled.

"What are you doing to my kitchen?"

"Relax!" Marty's voice filtered through the crack in the door. "We won't make too much of a mess!"

He and Andy exchanged a laugh, and Kayla smiled.

"Can I see what you're doing?"

"It's a surprise!" Andy called back.

"Fine, children, I'll go back to bed," she acquiesced.

The twosome in the kitchen giggled, but she was too tired to bother with the reason. Turning about, she dropped herself face first on the bed and drifted off to sleep.

Kayla woke to Deeks's hand on her shoulder. Andy crawled up on the other side of the bed as Deeks placed a breakfast tray across her lap. Her mouth watered as she took in the sight before her. Pancakes, complete with syrup and strawberries, lay staked on a plate beside a full cup of milk. Andy handed her a rose, snuggling up beside his mom.

"Wow!" Kayla gushed, pushing her hair out of her face. She smelled the rose and kissed Andy's forehead. "Who knew you could cook!"

"I made the pancakes," Andy clarified, "Marty mixed the batter."

"So that's why they aren't burnt!"

Deeks sat on the edge of the bed. "We figured you could use some cheering up."

She smiled back at him, wincing slightly from her remaining bruises. They healed slowly; the black-blue now a mustard yellow color. "This is really sweet." She took a bite, as Andy watched on, mouth watering.

"What are you guys eating?"

"Oh, I'm taking him out to breakfast and then to school," Marty smiled, slapping Andy on the back. He squeezed Kayla's leg with the other hand. "Take some time for yourself. Go out, go shopping, or something."

"That's really sweet of you, but I don't really want to go out."

"Doctor's orders," he insisted. "You need to get out of the house."

Marty couldn't help but be concerned. He had seen her like this only once before, and that was back when she was used to it-back at the academy. Then, she had been accustomed to her father's beatings. Since then, she crawled out of that hole, and the sheriff's sudden appearance triggered a relapse. Time alone wasn't the answer, but neither was day-to-day activities. Patting her leg one more time, Marty stood.

"Come on, Andy, let's get ready."

"Make sure he remembers his-" Kayla started, but Andy cut her off.

"Mom, we've got it!"

* * *

Kayla sat on the small balcony, planning the summer dishes for the cooking class. She knew Deeks had told her to do something for herself, but she didn't really care to go out into the world today. She still ached from the wounds her father had inflicted though the bruising on her neck and torso had faded. The cut on her cheek was healing nicely, but every time she looked in the mirror, the memory plagued her. She was scared he might be around the corner, waiting for her.

_Knock_.

She froze. _9:32. Too early for Deeks._

Would her father have the audacity to return so soon? Climbing onto the counter, she retrieved her gun and checked the mag. She crept to the door. Maybe if she was quiet, he would think she wasn't home. Chancing a look through the peephole, her jaw dropped. She swung the door wide.

"Jocelyn Hart, what on earth are you doing here?"

The friend embraced her, squeezing tight. "I missed you so much!" Then, pulling back, she glared at Kayla. "Wait—I'm mad at you! You bailed on me at the hospital!"

"I had to leave before Alan found me."

"You were bruised, beaten, and bleeding. You threw up once every mile. It wasn't your place to run; it's you dad who should have been in jail. Why the _hell_ did you leave?"

"I thought the baby was Dad's; I had no choice. He didn't need to go to jail; he wasn't hurting anyone but me."

"What about what he did to you on Friday? From the looks of it, you got beaten up and down."

"Yeah," Kayla grinned crookedly. "But so was he. Look—I'm not helpless! I gave as good as I got, and besides—Marty was there to finish him off."

Jocelyn blinked, waving her hands. "Wait—Marty Deeks?"

Kayla blushed. "Yeah, he's been around."

"Is he the mysterious boyfriend?"

"_Mysterious boyfriend_?"

"Your dad came into the precinct on Saturday with a black eye muttering about you and some jerk-off boyfriend."

Kayla laughed aloud. "Sounds about accurate."

"So what's his deal then? Are you two going out?"

"No," she replied, chewing on her bottom lip. At Jocelyn's knowing look, she continued. "He's Andy's father."

"The baby pulled through?"

"Safe and sound." Kayla pulled a photo off of the wall. Andy's crooked smile lit up his blue eyes.

"Cute kid," Jocelyn smiled. "He looks just like his dad."

"He does, doesn't he?" she beamed, proud of her son. "He's become my life."

"So if Andy is Marty's kid, why aren't the two of you dating?"

"It's not like were a package deal, Joce. Just because we share a kid doesn't mean we share each other."

"You, darling, are in denial. You were crazy for him then and you're crazy for him now. I can see it in your eyes!" She smirked. "So why aren't you dating?"

Kayla laughed. "No, we're not dating. You know Deeks; he's not one to settle down."

"I don't know; a lot changes in eight years."

"Not him," Kayla replied.

"You know, he called the precinct about five years ago, looking for you."

"What?"

"Yeah! He sounded desperate to find you. I told him you had resigned, but he still made me search the database for you. We came up empty."

"I had no idea…" Kayla breathed. "I was living off the grid at that point; I rented an apartment, but the lease wasn't in my name."

"Wow. You really went DEFCON one on this, didn't you?"

"I had to protect Andy."

"You could have protected him with the help of people who cared about you."

Kayla grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

"So, what's the deal with you and Deeks?"

Running her hands through her hair, Kayla sighed. "Nothing. We're just co-parents."

_"Why aren't you dating him?"_

"Because it's Deeks!"

"Honey, it sounds to me like he's pretty protective of you, and he wants the whole package."

"Good for him."

"Kaye, it's been over a month since the police report. What's the problem?" She lowered her voice. "Is he not interested in you?"

"I think so."

"Then why the hell are you putting it off?"

"_I don't know!_" she yelled, frustrated. "He's a perfect gentleman, a perfect father, and a great guy all around, but I can't bring myself to do it! Just this morning, he and Andy made me breakfast in bed! I dream about him every night, I fall for him every day, but I can't pull the metaphoric trigger."

"Kaye," she sighed. "You're afraid. It's understandable."

"I just can't imagine having another guy running my life. I'd taken orders from my father, I'd been hurt by every guy I came across; I don't want to feel that again. If I can know I won't be hurt, then I'll take the plunge."

"Honey," Jocelyn murmured, "no one can promise you that. That's the thing about love—it's the risk that makes it worth it. I honestly think love wouldn't exist without pain."

"All it's been for me _is_ pain."

"You can't keep running."

"It's worked so far," she replied stubbornly.

Jocelyn glanced over Kayla's shoulder into the master bedroom. The bed was unmade, and on Kayla's pillow laid Marty's familiar old green jacket. She flashed Kayla a significant look.

"You're _still_ wearing that old thing? Honey, wearing that jacket seven years ago is one thing, but do you realize you can have the _actual_ man? I bet you it doesn't even smell like him anymore."

"It's just so comforting, and there are no strings attached."

"You're stupider than I remember. Seriously! The longer you hold out on Marty, it's not just going to hurt you, it's going to hurt him."

Kayla exhaled slowly. "I don't want to hurt him, but I hate feeling obligated to date him just because he fathered my kid."

"Is it really an obligation if you want to? No one's dragging you into this. From what I can tell, he's left it open, but he isn't pressuring you, right?"

"Right."

"You should think long and hard about what you really want."

"What makes you think you can just appear out of thin air and tell me what to do?"

"Because even though you _ditched_ me, I'm still your friend. I never stopped. I show up here to discover you're being a huge idiot, I am entitled to tell you off."

"You're right," she acquiesced. "I'm being an idiot."

"Don't you _want_ to go out with him?"

Kayla held her breath, fighting with herself. "I do—but it's not that simple!"

"How is it 'not simple'? The two of you were amazing together back at the academy, you had a kid together, and now he wants to be a family!"

Kayla hesitated. "The last day of the academy, the day he disappeared, do you remember?"

"How could I forget? You nearly had a heart attack looking for him!"

"He had made me a promise; a promise to protect me from the sheriff, a promise to stay with me, and a promise to look after me."

"And that's a problem because...?"

"I found out years later that he dropped that same day me faster than a hot potato for his dream job."

Jocelyn's jaw dropped. "You're not serious."

"He told me so himself."

"Okay, well…maybe he's changed," she reasoned. Deeks wasn't the sort to abandon people he cared about. "Has he done anything, anything at all, to cause you to doubt him?"

"No."

"And are you still attracted to him?"

Kayla blushed, remembering their short tryst in the apartment. "Oh, yes."

"And he's great with Andy?"

"Fantastic."

Jocelyn slammed the table, making Kayla jump. "They why in the hell are you putting this man out in the cold?"

"Because I don't want to mess it up!"

"How so?"

"Over the past eight years, I have idealized him, fantasized about him, and loved the idea of him. If I mess this up, I lose that. I don't want to taint the one thing that has kept me holding on. If I mess this up, I lose Andy's father, too"

"At this particular moment, forget the Andy thing."

Kayla nodded.

"Would you rather fantasize about him, or actually hold him?"

_Blush_.

"Wouldn't you rather hold your muscled, super-hot, California-tanned dream guy in your arms? Kiss his lips, feel his heartbeat, and come together in hot, animalistic, primal sex?" Jocelyn exaggerated every word, her voice smoky and teasing.

_BLUSH_.

"Oh, come on!" Jocelyn laughed.

Kayla let out her breath. "Yes!"

"When was the last time you got laid?"

"The night before graduation..." she whispered.

"Well, no wonder you're such a stick-in-the-mud! Eight years without sex would leave anyone sexually frustrated!"

Kayla laughed. "No offense, Joce, but I think I'll be sexually frustrated with anyone but Deeks. He's kind of the only guy who can…scratch the itch."

"Listen to you!" Jocelyn teased. "Why are you holding this guy off?"

"Because I might end up disappointing him. I'm not exactly sexually knowledgeable, and I'm nowhere near as hot as half of the other women he's laid."

Jocelyn stood, looking down at Kayla. "Girl, you are smoking hot; you have all the gear you need. You're just not advertising properly."

"What?"

"You've spent your whole life trying to be invisible. You figured the more you blended into the landscape, the less your dad would beat on you. But news flash, friend, you don't need to be invisible any more. You told your dad off, you've got Andy, and you've got Deeks. You have you own business and your own place. The world is your oyster and all you want to do is hide in the shell. You've allowed yourself to be mom-ified too early! You're 28, hot, and single! I insist on being your guide back into the world of style. You are way too cute to be wasting that body in mom jeans and t-shirts."

"Let me get this straight," Kayla puzzled, "We haven't seen each other in eight years, and your first order of business is to make me over?"

"Oh, I've always wanted to! Your fashion was horrible at the academy, but this is an all-time low."

"I'm flattered," Kayla replied sarcastically.

Silence fell; both women took sips of their tea.

"What are you doing today?"

"Nothing. Marty prescribed a day of rest."

"Well, then, I'm taking you shopping."

"What?"

"Shopping!" Jocelyn squealed. "Do you have any shopping money?"

"A few dollars."

"Do you have more—maybe a wad of cash? We have a _lot_ of work to do."

Kayla glanced at the floor. Yes, she did have a wad of cash—a huge one at that—but it was her emergency moving fund. She saved it for finding a new home and life somewhere else. She planned on using it soon, too, now that her father had found her.

But even as she thought about it, she remembered Marty's words: they were in this together now, and it wasn't just her decision. He wanted her to stay. What's more, she had to acknowledge that it would be cruel to move Andy—even if he didn't know that he had already met his father.

She took a deep breath. "Let me get my purse."

Kayla had never really minded clothes shopping; she just never saw the reason in buying clothes outside of the items she utilized day to day. She had lounge clothes, workout clothes, and her chef's jacket—usually worn over matching cotton pants. She had no problem with decorating her home. The tools of her trade gave her a list of necessities, but it was her decision to pick antiqued and colored items.

Andy, on the other hand, was a stickler for style. Every time they went shopping, he reminded her of his father. It was all Kayla could do to keep him under budget. Even at eight years old his charisma and style helped him charm—or annoy—his way into anyone's heart.

But this form of shopping was a new experience for Kayla. Jocelyn had done a mini makeover at the academy, but there was only so much she could do with PTs and blunt scissors. With all of Los Angeles at her disposal, Jocelyn knew exactly where they needed to go.

"Okay," Jocelyn sang, skimming the racks at Nordstrom. "You are in desperate need of jeans—skinny _and_ bootcut—shorts, cute tops, and a few jackets. Should only put you back a couple thousand."

"You know," Kayla laughed as her friend dropped the selections in her arms, "When you said 'shopping', I thought you meant Target or Macy's or something."

"Girl, you needed more than classy Wal-Mart to fix you up."

"Aren't friends supposed to build each other up?"

"Aww, honey, you don't believe that bullshit, do you? My job is to help you live up to your beautiful potential—and that means telling you how messed up you are."

"So, friends with benefits," Kayla smirked. "I certainly would never imagine making myself over."

"You wouldn't know how! Your fashion sense is completely out of whack."

"So the only way to make me fashionable is to give me no other choice?"

"Apparently. I tried to fix you back at the Academy, but that _clearly_ didn't take." She smacked Kayla's butt. "Now go get changed!"

A few minutes later, Kayla emerged from the dressing room, clad in dark blue skinny jeans, a white gauze blouse, and coral blazer.

"Pink?" she scowled at the mirror.

"Admit it, you look good." Jocelyn grinned. "And it's not pink, it's coral!"

"It's in the family of pink."

Jocelyn cackled gleefully. "Oh, say you're a sexy bitch."

"Absolutely not."

"You don't get to take off the blazer until you say it."

"What?"

"Say it!"

Kayla blushed. "Imasexybitch."

"I can't hear you!"

"I'm a sexy bitch," she whispered.

"You will be wearing that forever."

"I'M A SEXY BITCH!" She turned red, all the way up to her roots.

The yell drew disapproving glares from other shoppers, but Jocelyn only grinned. "Do you know why I put you in that jacket? Because you need to be reminded of what a _woman _looks like—and you look damn good in that _coral_ blazer."

Three hours later, Kayla walked out of the Americana mall carrying bags from Madewell, Nordstrom, Anthropologie (Jocelyn had to drag Kayla from the housewares), and H&M. Beside the time spent in the clothing stores, They spent an additional hour at the Sephora counter. She had no desire to mask her face; Jocelyn simply wanted to enhance the natural beauty already there.

Next, Jocelyn took Kayla to her stylist. Stripping the hair of the bottled color, Kayla found herself face to face with her natural shade of blonde.

"Kayla, can we keep it please?" Jocelyn sighed.

"Absolutely not. If my dad comes back, I need to be as unrecognizable as possible."

"Yes," she reasoned, "but if he does, nothing is more recognizable than a confident, beautiful, _well-groomed_ daughter."

"I hate you."

"Love you, too."

"So this is your payback," Kayla mused. "I ditch you and you put me in a pink blazer, force me to spend thousands of dollars, and cut my hair?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Now can you _please_ go blonde again?"

"I'm no dumb blonde floozy!"

"But blondes have more fun, and you need more fun in your life!"

At Jocelyn's insistence, the hair stayed blonde. An allover regimen of rich golden blond mixed with highlights and lowlights erased any remnant of the dingy hair.

"Well, now my only option for rebellion is mismatch," Kayla sighed as they strolled out of the salon.

"I swear, if you do that, I will hunt you down and kill you."

"So, no green and yellow?"

"Not in a million years."

Kayla furrowed her brow.

"What?" Jocelyn knew that look.

"Why are you my friend?"

"Because you're so much fun to make over!"

"I'm serious! You pick me up on some godforsaken trail and suddenly you're my best friend? You help me out when I'm in a scrape, and I ditch you to disappear. You find me and pick it up where we left off like nothing happened. What kind of friendship is a one way street?"

"Darling," Jocelyn laughed, wrapping her arm around Kayla's shoulder, "you make me laugh, you let me be as weird as I want, and every time I got my heart broken, you were right there to laugh, drink tequila, and let me pretend I was as tough as I thought I was. You're the only girl I've met who can put up with me."

Kayla hip checked Jocelyn. "Well, I'm pretty sure that's bullshit, but I appreciate the effort."


	19. Chapter 19

Marty leaned against the railing outside Andy's school. Per his promise to Kayla, he made sure to take care of everything for the day. The bell was bound to ring any minute, but a laugh made him turn his head down the sidewalk.

Two women sauntered down the sidewalk toward him: one with raven hair, the other blonde. They laughed again, and one bumped the other's hip. They moved closer and, to Marty's shock, he recognized them.

He hadn't seen Jocelyn since the Academy, despite their conversation on the phone five years ago. She was still a knockout, flaunting the barely attainable girl-next-door look. She could drink with the best of them, play one of the guys, then turn around and seduce her pick of the bar.

Though he was surprised to see Jocelyn, he was even more shocked to recognize the blonde: Kayla. Her hair bounced as she walked like a model stomping the runway. A smart grin played on her face. She was smoking hot. There was no denying this was Jocelyn's work. Before, she looked good, but now, it looked like she had come into her own. That smile—it went straight to his heart and he couldn't help but grin back. He had always been one for brunettes, but Kayla had already broken his type in more than one way. Besides, blonde hair complemented her personality.

As Jocelyn caught sight of him, she jogged forward, wrapping him in a great bear hug.

"_Damn!_" she smiled, "It is good to see you!"

"You, too, babe!" He clapped her on the back like he would any of his buddies.

Kayla fought down the green jealousy she felt bubbling up inside her.

Marty turned to her, arms extended in awe. "Kayla, you look amazing."

"I know, right?" Jocelyn chimed in. "Serious MILF material."

"Thanks," she blushed.

He looked to Jocelyn, "Did she just accept a compliment?"

"I think she accepted that compliment," Jocelyn teased.

"Are you feeling okay?" he touched her forehead, checking for the nonexistent fever.

Kayla ducked away at his touch. Even in jest, his touch triggered shocks down her spine, emanating from his fingers. "Why is it that every time I get fixed up, everyone thinks I'm sick?"

Jocelyn sighed, wrapping her arm around Kayla's waist. "So, where's the runt?"

The school bell rang on cue. The doors opened, spilling out children like water through a broken dam. Andy found his way through the crowd to the gathering of friends, hugging Deeks first, then holding onto Kayla's side.

"Hey!" Kayla greeted, "How was school?"

"Awesome!"

"Andy, this is my friend Jocelyn," she said, motioning at her friend.

The child offered his hand to Jocelyn. "Nice to meet you."

"Such a gentleman!" Joce exclaimed. "Looks like he inherited his father's fashion sense, too."

"You know my dad?" Andy asked, riveted.

Kayla and Deeks shot their friend a pointed glare.

"I've met him," she answered, rolling her eyes at Kayla.

"What's he like?"

"He's pretty awesome." The answer was vague, and they dropped the subject. "Well, darlings, I have to run. I've got the night shift."

"You're still a cop?"

"That's right, Mr. Deeks. I'm still a lady in blue." She patted his shoulder, walking past him.

"Then I guess I'll see you around?"

"Without a doubt." Jocelyn winked before walking away.

* * *

The bar wasn't too crowded. This was a mercy to Marty and his purpose; the conversation he wished to hold required a certain level of audibility. He had chosen a spot off his usual path, a precaution due to the sensitivity of such a clandestine meeting. It felt dirty to go behind Kayla's back, but he had questions, questions only one person could answer.

Jocelyn walked into the bar and, as always, every eye was on her. Deeks chuckled.

She always could make an entrance.

Ignoring the stares she and her skinny jean-clad behind were receiving, Jocelyn made her way to Deeks, a wide grin on her face.

"Thanks for coming," he breathed, embracing her. The male population in the bar glared in jealousy.

"For you? Any time." She lowered her voice. "Though we may have to keep this on the down low. Talking to you is like fraternizing with the enemy."

Deeks chuckled, but her words were just a little too true. He signaled the bartender and, once they had their drinks, they chose a booth.

Jocelyn took a swig of her beer before smiling at him. "Marty Deeks."

He grinned back. "Jocelyn Hart."

"I wanted to thank you for what you did for Kayla yesterday. Ever since her dad showed up, she's been in a funk. I tried to get her out of the house, but it seems you were the only person who could."

"Yeah," Jocelyn grinned, "she can be tough, and her father is a trigger."

"How do you work under him?"

"He's a bastard, but no one in the precinct takes him seriously. He's basically a lame duck sheriff."

"Any way of taking him down?" Deeks asked.

"Kayla will have none of it."

Deeks sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Bastard."

"Before I answer any of your questions, I need you to answer me honestly: why are you after Kayla?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why are you so set on dating Kayla? You could have _any_ girl and you know it. Why her?"

He thought for a moment, looking vacantly into the distance. "She's my home. I mean sure, she's complicated and insecure, but she's also beautiful, talented and…she takes care of me."

"What about Andy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are you only after her because of Andy? Like they're some sort of package deal?"

"I could have Andy without Kayla, no problem; he's mine by blood. But I knew from the start I'd have to work for Kayla."

"Okay." Jocelyn nodded, satisfied with his answer. "What do you want to know about her?"

Sighing, he rubbed his face. "I need to know why she's so pissed all the time."

Jocelyn laughed obnoxiously. "Oh, she's not pissed all the time; just when you're around."

"That's helpful!" he laughed sarcastically. "At least fill in the gaps. What happened after I left?"

The girl took another gulp from her bottle. "After you left, Kayla fell apart. It was like the moment she laid eyes on her father, her spirit left. I mean, I knew she was fragile, but it was like someone flicked a switch and she went from high on life to the gloomiest person alive."

"I get it," he stopped her.

"I don't think you do! You were the first person she trusted after years of abuse. You built her from the ground up, then dropped her. Whether or not your departure was intentional, you were the one to break the thin ice she was treading on."

"All I tried to do was teach her how to fight. Passing quals required confidence."

"If you think she latched on to you during her training, you can forget it. She expected nothing but friendship from you until you promised to look after her. Only then did she let herself hope for a better life. She trusted you."

"She trusted you and she still likes you."

"I didn't screw her then screw her over."

He smiled wryly. "What happened when she found out she was pregnant?"

"She tried to keep it a secret from me, but I was more attuned to her than most. It wasn't hard to guess after the third time she spewed chunks in the bullpen. I forced it out of her six weeks in; she was terrified her father would find out. After all, she thought the kid was his."

"Did she ever move in with you? I know we talked about that."

"She never got the chance. I got a call from her two weeks later in the middle of the night; I found her on the street corner, duffel bag in hand, face bashed in. I mean seriously bad shape. It looked like her dad had tried to cause a miscarriage. She wanted to spend the night, I took her to the hospital instead. I came back to check on her and she was gone."

"Gone?"

"The doctor said she had checked herself out. I didn't see her until you submitted that police report."

Marty exhaled slowly. "Wow. I had no idea."

"She still doesn't like to talk about it, so don't tell her I told you. I'm all ready to be your ally on this. Lord knows she needs someone to love, but if you mess her up again, I have no choice but to castrate you."

"What is it with the women in my life? They all want to rip my balls off."

"Your fate is in your hands."

* * *

Kayla had just dropped Andy off at his friends' house for the night when the phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but the caller ID said Kensi.

I guess Marty put it in my phone, she mused, answering the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is this Kayla?"

"Yes…is this Kensi?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"Pretty sure Marty programmed my phone."

"It's so weird to hear you call him Marty," Kensi muttered under her breath.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. Look, usually this is the part of a case over here where we all go out and celebrate. You know, drinks, bars, clubs, the whole shebang."

"Uh, huh," Kayla nodded.

"He said no."

"And I should be concerned?" After having a kid, turning down the club scene isn't such a bad idea.

"Well…today was particularly hard on him; he may need someone to keep him company."

"How can I help? I don't even know where he lives."

"And how long have you been dating?" Kensi asked.

"Depends on who you ask," Kayla responded wryly.

"Look, I'll text you the address. And thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"Because you're doing this, I get to go clubbing!" Kensi squealed before hanging up.

* * *

Kayla took a deep breath for courage before knocking on Marty's door. She wondered if she was overstepping her bounds. Would it qualify as moving onto his turf by checking on him for his partner? Kayla was glad to help; she cared about Deeks, but until this moment, every interaction had taken place at her apartment.

Despite his affinity for her personal life, he had somehow managed to keep his from her. Not for lack of sharing; his confidential work and double life left them with a sort of don't ask, don't tell understanding. But now that she thought about it, the curiosity was unbearable. She had to see that apartment.

Curiosity and care only made her jittery, she needed an excuse to come in. Filling a cooler with supplies, she grabbed the best man movies she owned: the Star Wars trilogy, Star Trek, and every Indiana Jones movie. Food and movies were a surefire cure for a bad day.

He answered the door shirtless, a scruffy dog panting beside his leg. A pool of drool filled her mouth, but she forced herself to focus. In addition to his lack of shirt, he was clad only in sweatpants; even his feet were bare. Three empty bottles of beer lay on the ground beside the quintessential manly recliner.

"I didn't know you had a dog."

"What are you doing here?" Marty's voice was taut, his usual happy-go-lucky smirk missing.

"Kensi called me. Can I come in?"

"Now's really not a good time."

Kayla's eyes moved past him to the beer bottles, condensation still dripping from the glass. She raised her eyebrow. "This is non-negotiable. We are going to vedge on the sofa, watch a movie marathon, and eat delicious gourmet food. I am going to take care of you because you showed me that I'm no island. Now I get to show you—neither are you."

He looked at her with newfound respect, opening the door slowly.

The apartment fit his personality. The walls were white, the lines clean—just about the only clean thing in the space. Clothes lay strewn about the room, dirty dishes filled the sink. The dog—why hadn't she heard about the dog?—made his bed on a pile of dirty jeans. From what she could tell, the apartment was barely lived in. It seemed he only used it to sleep and change his clothes.

Hope flickered as she realized the mess meant no woman had entered in a long time. Granted, his M.O. was spending his one-night-stands at the girl's place—it was easy to sneak out with no loose ends.

"Well?"

Kayla fumbled with her bags, clearing a space on the counter.

"I am going to make you a sammich."

"A sammich?" he asked blankly.

"You don't know what a sammich is?" she asked, placing items from the cooler onto the counter. Roast beef, mayo, miscellaneous jars, spices, fresh tomatoes and lettuce; the cooler seemed to be related to Mary Poppins's carpetbag. "I thought for sure that a guy like you would know what a sammich is."

"I'm assuming it's a kind of sandwich?" he guessed, surveying the spread.

"Not just any sandwich!" Kayla faked offense. "A sammich, sir, is a labor of love!"

"Sure," Deeks chuckled, sitting on a barstool.

Kayla pulled out the bread, adding ingredients as she spun a tale.

"From the time of the cavemen, who you seem to be closer related to than most, the sammich was a sign of appreciation from the woman to her mate. A simple slab of meat sprinkled with the female's signature herbs would be presented to the male to please him."

Deeks smiled, placing his chin in his hand, as she wove her story.

"Over the years, the sammich evolved as the ingredients progressed. Each woman had a special recipe of herbs, spices, meats, vegetables, cheese, and bread. This was used to land a man in society, for, as we all know, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Is it now?" He watched her carefully slice a beefsteak tomato then reach for a red onion.

"It is indeed." Kayla returned to her story. "In recent years, the sammich has been looked down upon as a sign of submission and servitude. Men have abused their rights to the sammich, causing women to resent the men. The sammich has lost its purpose. Still, there are a chosen few who carry on the tradition in its purity. For each woman's recipe is an artist's masterpiece, perfect for whoever would look upon it."

He looked at her softly. "You're amazing, did you know that?"

As she chopped the onion, he reached up to wipe the tears leaking from her eyes.

"You know, it's nice to see you cry."

A hollow laugh escaped her lips. "I think I lost that ability years ago. I'm not even sure Andy has seen me cry."

At the mention of Andy, Deeks looked away.

Sliding the sandwich in front of him, she lifted his chin. "What happened today?"

He took her hand gently. "What's your security clearance?"

"Damn the security clearance. Something's bothering you and we need to talk about it."

Silence hung heavy in the air before he answered. "I couldn't save him."

"A kid?" Kayla guessed.

"He was about Andy's age."

Kayla wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Touching her cheek, he turned, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "Thank you."

"For what?" The kiss left her a bit fuzzy.

"For not telling me that everything will be okay."

"In my experience, _everything _is _never_ okay. Now eat your sandwich!"

"Your sammich."

He stared at it for a second. It really was a masterpiece. Raising it in awe, he took a bite. His eyes went wide, flitting from the sandwich to Kayla to the sandwich, and finally back to Kayla.

"Marry me," he breathed.

"My mother always taught me, 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach'."

"I would have liked to meet her."

"She was pretty fantastic."

Marty looked to the sandwich, then back to Kayla. "Aren't you having one?"

"Oh, my payment is a bite of yours." She reached for the sandwich.

He slid the plate toward him protectively. "I don't think so."

"I'm pretty sure that's not part of the story," Deeks laughed, holding the sammich more protectively.

"Please?"

"No."

Kayla heaved herself across the counter to grab a bite of sandwich and failed.

_"Fine,"_ she huffed with a perfect impression of a three-year-old. "Then I won't let you watch my movies."

"That's okay; I probably own them anyway—on blu ray at that."

"Killjoy," she sighed, eyeing the sammich. "Man, if you act like this every time I make you a sammich, I might not make you another one."

He handed the food over begrudgingly. "Never blackmail a man over food."

"Oh, you're just a big baby."

He pouted at Kayla.

"Now," she sighed, "You should take a shower while I clean up, then we can hunker down for a Star Wars marathon."

"A shower?" he asked skeptically. "Is this really necessary?"

Placing a hand on his bare chest, she moved in close. "You worked hard today," she breathed, her voice husky. "You worked up a manly sweat."

His breath hitched as she ran a hand down his bicep. "I'm too tired," he tried to whine.

"You need to strip off those sweatpants, step into a hot, steamy shower, and wash that fantastic hair of yours."

_Gulp_. "Who are you, and where is Kayla?"

She smirked mysteriously, the perfect seductress smirk on her supple lips. He wanted so badly to kiss them again.

"Why do I need to shower?"

"Because your manly stench is putrid…and your bare chest is distracting."

He grinned, satisfied with himself. "I don't know…I like you when you're distracted. You let me do things like this…"

As he kissed her forehead, she closed her eyes.

"And this…"

His lips found her nose.

"And this…"

Their lips met. Kayla responded hungrily, as if muscle memory took over. They fit so well together. Her mind went blissfully blank—until his tongue breached her lips.

"Ack!" she gagged, shoving him away with a grin, "Add 'brush your teeth' to the list."

"Fine."

Minutes later, Kayla heard the water running. The dog chased her heels as she perused his movie collection. _Monty Python, Star Wars, Star Trek, Indiana Jones, The Godfather, The Breakfast Club—_wait, what? It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. A cold tongue licked her knees, and she looked down at the culprit.

"Who are you, little guy?" she petted the medium sized mutt with a grin. "I can't believe your daddy never told me about you!"

The dog growled contentedly, rubbing against her leg like a happy cat. She sat on the sofa and the dog hopped up next to her, licking her face.

"Monty!" Deeks barked. "Down!"

The dog leapt off the sofa as if burned.

"So, his name is Monty?" Kayla turned to him, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his fully clad form.

"Yup."

"Why'd you never tell me about him?"

"He's not really mine." At Kayla's questioning look, he continued. "Monty's a bomb-sniffing dog, but he's getting up in years, so he lives with me."

"Monty is a sweetheart," she purred, rubbing its ear. "He seems perfect for you."

"Yeah, we go way back." He joined her on the sofa. "Let's get this party started."

Halfway through _A New Hope_, Kayla, Deeks, and Monty found themselves curled on the sofa. Kayla's head was tucked against Marty's chest, her feet curled under Monty's panting body. Marty relaxed into the cushions as a sense of calm washed over his body. Here, with her weight against him, he could breathe. The events of the day dissolved and he felt like himself for the first time in years.

Every day was an adrenaline rush. He loved it; that's why he chose the job in the first place. Before Kayla's return, his nights were spent partying just to keep it going. But now, with the woman he loved—yes, loved—in his arms, none of that mattered. She had the unique capability to slow him down. Even Kensi had never managed that. Sure, Kensi and him worked together perfectly in the field, but even he couldn't let down his guard around her. Even when he was entertaining feelings for Kensi, they were never this close.

So close, that halfway through _The Empire Strikes Back_, his head rolled back onto the sofa, snoring softly. Kayla drank him in; the peace on his face a surprising change from his usual humorous mask. He was more himself than ever as he slept. Smiling, she snuggled into his chest, falling asleep to the sound of lightsabers clashing.


	20. Chapter 20

Marty jerked awake, rolling off the sofa. He had, of course, forgotten that Kayla was asleep on him, and she fell on top of him with a yelp. Monty completed the pile, clawing to gain his footing. Kayla pulled herself up onto her elbows, smiling wryly down at him.

He lifted his head to kiss her.

"Good morning," he grunted.

"Morning."

They untangled from each other; Kayla straightened her clothes. "You hungry?"

"Unh, unh," he shook his head. "This morning, I make breakfast."

"Are you sure? My eggs are usually…less burnt."

"Your eggs are usually fertilized."

She swatted his chest. "Shut up."

Deeks fell silent.

"What is it?"

"I couldn't save him."

Kayla watched him quietly, waiting for him to continue.

"I promised the kid I'd get him back to his parents, and I failed."

"Marty," Kayla squeezed his hand, "You did your best. You always do."

"Every time I promise to save someone, I fail."

"Hey," she interrupted firmly. "You are _not_ a failure."

"I failed you," he contradicted.

"No, you didn't. What happened wasn't entirely your fault; I just like to blame you. I know you would have found me if I hadn't gone underground. And when my dad showed up, you sent him packing. You've got your partner's back every day. I'm not saying whatever happened today didn't matter, but you can't lose focus on all the good you've done."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"You love to torture yourself over every little mistake. It's one of the things that makes you so amazing, but you're going to kill yourself if you carry on like this. You're not the Lone Ranger anymore."

"Are you saying that you're ready to be my Tonto?"

"If it's needed, _Kemo Sabe_." She kissed his forehead.

* * *

Kayla couldn't really describe why she had allowed herself to act so freely at Marty's apartment. Every action contradicted the boundaries she had set forth. Granted, they were blurry; her desire to be close to him battled with her defense mechanisms. But she had no idea giving in would feel so right. The moment she stopped resisting, they got along so easily. Was the friction between them completely her fault? She wasn't about to give up her qualms completely, but maybe, just maybe, he was right.

Likewise, Deeks was completely baffled by her change in behavior. Not that he was complaining-it was such a thrill to experience her laid-back side. But it was such a departure. When he kissed her, he had expected her to shut down and run, but to his surprise, she went with it. Would she let him kiss her again? He had no idea, but if she really had changed her mind, he was ready.

* * *

Deeks greeted Kayla for dinner with a peck on the lips.

Swatting him across his rear playfully, she gaped at his audacity-and her own.

"I brought the buns," he announced.

"Sure you did," she winked back to make sure the double entendre landed. Damn, that ass was fine.

Kayla shook her head clear, still blushing from the kiss. His apartment had been otherworldly, making it easy to lose focus. But here, now, such displays of affection, chaste as they were, blurred the lines she had mentally defined for their relationship.

There was no time for discussion. Andy skipped into the room and she shut her mouth. She felt like she had lied to her own son without even saying a word. Deeks fell into conversation with Andy seamlessly, as if nothing had happened. Could kisses really be so matter-of-fact? She shook her head to clear it, turning back to the stove. Her ideas of romance were clearly skewed.

"Kaye," Deeks called from his spot on the sofa, "you all right?"

Could he really tell she was off from the other room?

"Yeah," she responded, fighting to keep her voice from shaking, "dinner's almost set!"

"Okay, bud, go wash up!"

"Wash up?" Kayla smiled. "Look at you, playing daddy."

"What?" He tried to brush it off. "I like playing house with you."

His eyes twinkled, and she wondered what he really meant by 'playing house'. He leaned in for a kiss as she stepped out of reach.

"No," she stipulated.

"Kaye, what's going on?"

"Look, we can't act like this, not around Andy."

Confused, he furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to explain it. It feels wrong to fool around behind Andy's back."

"Who says we're fooling around? I plan on sticking around."

The response was automatic. "How can I believe you?"

"Because I've done everything you asked of me. I've helped you and I've loved you, and I've come back every time you kicked me out."

"Okay, but what about when you get bored? Domestic life isn't exactly all that exciting."

"Kayla, you're just the right amount of exciting for me. You and Andy, you're perfect! I used to think that all I wanted was one rush after another, but my favorite part of the day is coming back to you two. I get to save the world _and_ have you guys. It's like I get to have my cake and eat it too."

"So you're saying I don't bore you."

"How could you bore me? Between you kicking me out every other day and raising my son, my excitement level is maxed out."

Kayla had inched closer to him with every word. "So this could work?"

He leaned in to kiss her. "It already is."

"WHAT?" a shriek came from the threshold as the twosome realized they had an audience.

"Andy, sweetie," Kayla started, but he cut her off.

"Marty's my dad?"

"Andy…"

"I'm not stupid!" Andy raised his voice, pulling away. "Is he my dad?"

His mother squatted down, meeting her son at eye level. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "I was scared, baby. I was scared that you wouldn't like him, or that he wouldn't see how amazing you are. I wanted you all for myself."

"But I do like him! He's fun and different!" Andy turned his eyes to Deeks. "You like me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Andy," Deeks reassured his son.

"Then don't treat me like a baby. I'm almost eight years old, and that is definitely old enough to know who my dad is."

Kayla smiled in spite of herself. "You know what?" she asked, turning to Deeks, "He's right!"

She stood, putting her arm through Deeks's. "No more secrets."

"No more secrets," Deeks repeated, looking between Kayla and Andy. Maybe now she would open up to a relationship.

Dinner passed in silence. Andy processed the new information in his own ponderous way as Kayla and Deeks contemplated the future of the family. Bedtime could not come soon enough, and Andy put himself to bed without a word. Kayla and Marty watched worriedly as the kid went through the motions. Kayla entered the room only to turn off the light.

"Mom?" he called.

Kayla knelt beside his bed, pushing his hair back. "Yeah, sweetie?"

"Is Marty going to live with us now?"

"No."

"Do I have to call him dad?"

"Not unless you want to."

"Are you going to marry him?"

"Not at this moment." She kissed his forehead and returned to the kitchen.

"_Now_ can I take you out?" Deeks greeted.

"I don't know," Kayla trailed off.

The humor left Marty's eyes. "You're joking, right? Andy knows now, so that's not stopping you. Why not?"

"I don't like being expected to do anything!"

"I just think our relationship is working out fine."

"Two hours ago, you were feeling guilty for sneaking around behind Andy's back!"

"Why? Why are you so stuck on this? I like how this is working out."

"Like what? No commitment? I do everything on your terms, I follow your rules, and maybe, just _maybe,_ I get rewarded with a few kisses before you kick me out again? That's not okay."

"Why fix what isn't broken?"

"Because your control freak bubble isn't protecting Andy so much as it's protecting you!"

Kayla stepped back, indignant. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"Face it; you don't want a relationship, and as long as there aren't any strings attached, any fallout isn't your fault."

"You're wrong." She folded her arms. "I'm protecting my son."

"_Our_ son. What the hell happened to you? It used to be Kayla against the world! You stood up to your dad, raised Andy single handedly, and defied all odds to build your own business! It's like you got all those things then settled into apathy and forgot how to live, all the while using Andy as your excuse. When you're old and bitter from never having lived, you're going to blame Andy—and he's going to hate himself for it."

"How _dare_ you," she started. Her face was red, her fists clenched, her eyes full of fury. "I have my dream live and I've forgone relationships because they are unreliable. I rely on myself and no one else."

"Do you ever take any risks?"

"Of course I do!"

"Any recently?"

Yes!"

"Liar."

"Okay, fine, nothing recently."

"Then go out with me!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Chicken!"

Andy stalked into the kitchen, eyes squinted and jaw set.

"SHUT UP!" he yelled.

Both parents froze, jaws agape, looking at their furious son. They might have laughed; the scene was so comical, but it was so out of character for Andy that they obeyed.

Andy shook his finger at them. "I need you to stop fighting so I can talk to you." The finger pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit down."

Kayla and Deeks fairly dropped into their chairs as Andy sat across from them. He folded his arms and glared at them.

"Now, I need you to listen up. There has been a lot of fighting going on and I don't like it. Unless you like fighting, we need to fix this."

Deeks snuck a smile at Kayla who glared back. This was all his fault, but she wasn't about to air it in front of her son.

"Andy, the first rule of growing up is: women always think they're right when they're always wrong."

Kayla reached for Andy's hand. "Sweetie, you know that's a lie. We've talked about this before," she attempted to use the powers of persuasion and an eight year relationship to ply him to her will.

"Do you like each other?" Andy's eyes were curious and truthful.

There was a long pause as the adults squirmed in their chairs, and Kayla answered first.

"Honey, it's complicated…"

"No, it's not!" he insisted. "Do love each other?"

"It's not that simple," Deeks tried.

Andy glared at him. "My mom told me that you two were so in love that you made me." He turned to his mother. "Did you lie to me?"

"No!" Kayla was quick to answer, but hesitated when Deeks looked sideways at her. He had never heard this story.

She sighed, holding Deeks's eyes with hers. Out with the truth. "I loved your dad very much." As if to reassure herself, she repeated, "I did."

"Marty?" Andy asked incredulously.

Deeks' hand slid across the table, taking Kayla's. "I loved your mom, too."

"Good," the child nodded. "Now, love means you can't fight all the time, so stop fighting and be nice!"

He walked away, head held high; his work was done.

Alone, Deeks stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"We raised quite a kid, didn't we?" Amusement danced in his eyes.

"We?" she scoffed. "I raised that kid."

"I thought we weren't allowed to fight."

"I'm not fighting; I was correcting your rhetoric."

Deeks's tone rose. "Rhetoric? What, have you been studying the encyclopedia?"

"Yes, in between changing the diapers for that son that you didn't raise." Kayla matched his volume.

"No fighting!" The yell came from the playroom. The parents laughed, releasing the tension of the moment.

"Did you really love me? Back then?" Kayla asked hesitantly.

Deeks looked at her, the way that put shivers down her spine; as if he was looking into her soul. "Kayla, you were unlike any girl I had ever met. I fell head over heels."

She blushed, looking at her knees as her hair fell around her face. "Me, too."

Deeks gently tucker her hair behind her ear. "This is a mess, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"You know," he started slowly, and she looked up, "if this ever got sorted, I think I could love you again."

"Yeah?" She almost laughed. It was difficult to tell if he was joking or serious. "If you ever stopped being so stubborn, I think I could love you too."

"Then why don't you want to give this a chance?"

"Why?" Kayla sighed. "Because over the past eight years, I have taken everything you ever said, everything we ever did, and put it in a box, padlocked it, and put it inside another padlocked box—just to be safe—and threw away both keys. I raised Andy on the understanding that it was he and I—that's it. We never talk about you, and he'd stopped asking until recently.

"Then you come around, poking and prodding at that box. You've even got a lock pick, and you're trying to get in whether I like it or not. I'm just trying to protect what I've built with my son."

"What about our…relationship? You can't deny the chemistry."

"You're smoking hot and I'm a single mom with no social life. If I allowed myself, I'd tear your clothes off right now."

Deeks cleared his throat. "So I'm just man meat to you?"

"Infuriating, annoying, super-hot man meat."

"Who makes you laugh," he added.

"Who makes me so angry I could slap him," Kayla growled.

Deeks grinned back wickedly. "So why aren't you tearing my clothes off right now?

"Because there's an impressionable eight year old kid through that door who I don't want to traumatize."

"This is true. Walking in on your parents can have that effect."

_Parents_.

They paused for a moment. Both parties contemplated the title that they shared.

Kayla looked out to the sea, her eyes wistful. Despite it all, Kayla realized that she would forever be linked to Deeks, and, like it or not, she did enjoy having him around when they weren't fighting.

_Parents_.

Deeks grew pensive upon the realization that they were equals in this fight. Andy wasn't a pawn in the battle for Kayla's heart. A factor, yes, but Deeks would have to prove himself to Kayla and Andy separately. It would work out in time.

"I get it," Deeks sighed. "All I'm asking for is one night. Tonight, I want you to put Andy aside and be you: a hot, single, intelligent woman who I still have the hots for after eight years. Can you do that?"

Blushing, Kayla looked up at him uncertainly, but Deeks could see the glimmer of trust in her eyes. "I'll try."


	21. Chapter 21

"Oh. My. Gosh!" Jocelyn squealed.

"Yes, Marty and I are going out." Kayla could not stop smiling.

Her friend squealed. "Okay, we have to go shopping."

"Why is it that every time you come to see me, shopping is on the agenda?"

"Because I spend all day dressed in a bulky blue uniform and all my female friends are coworkers. I want to spend some quality time with my non-coworker female friend who, coincidentally, has a wardrobe in dire need of my help."

"My wardrobe is filled with clothes you bought me."

"And you need more!"

"Sweetie, I'll go shopping with you, but I refuse to become a shopaholic. You are buying for you."

"Unless we find a beautiful sundress for your date!"

"Sundress?" Kayla looked to her friend quizzically.

Jocelyn smiled mischievously. "Sundresses are like kryptonite to men."

"I'm amazed you even know what kryptonite is!"

"I dated a comic book geek."

"What?"

"He was cute!"

"You're an idiot."

"An idiot who can now hook any guy who ever liked Superman comics."

Kayla just rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse.

"So," Jocelyn winked, stepping into the walkway, "are you and Marty going to do it?"

"I'm not a slut," Kayla gasped dramatically.

"Yes, you are, and you've got the kid to prove it!"

"You're right."

"And, technically, it's not a first date, so you're not sleeping with him on the first date!"

Kayla punched Jocelyn in the arm. "I hate you and your logic."

"But you can get laid."

"I would love to get laid," her voice drifted before she blinked hard. "No. I can't let him get that far. We have to take it slow, for Andy."

"Honey," Jocelyn whispered in her ear, "Tonight, you are a free, unbridled woman."

"You are the devil!" Kayla gasped, blushing hard. "Tonight will go its own way; let's just wait and see!"

"You're totally going to do him."

"What makes you even think he wants to sleep with me?"

Jocelyn regarded her as a teacher regards a student. "Firstly, he's a man. Secondly, he hasn't slept with anyone since you came back into his life, and thirdly...girl, you're gorgeous!"

"I hate you," Kayla smiled.

"Ooh! This one!" Jocelyn pulled a navy cotton number. It had a structured corset bodice, leading into an eyelet skirt ending an inch above the knee.

Kayla looked it over, finally nodding in approval. "I like it."

"Then buy it." Jocelyn handed over the dress, allowing Kayla to step into the dressing room. "And some wedges. Because you can't wear this dress at night without a heel."

"And a sweater."

Jocelyn grimaced. "Sweater? Do you want to look like a third grade teacher?"

"It's going to be cold!"

"Well, then," she stalled, glancing around the store. Her eyes fell on her cropped cognac-colored leather jacket. "This. Wear this."

Kayla stepped out of the dressing room. Jocelyn held out the coat, and Kayla slipped it over her bare shoulders.

"Yes!" she squealed. The ensemble was the perfect juxtaposition of sweet and edgy.

Kayla smiled at her reflection. "You have no idea how glad I am to have a girlfriend again."

"Buy me dinner first!" Jocelyn shoved her.

"Seriously! I would have probably gone out in my mom jeans without you."

"Oh, no!" she gagged. "I'd wrangle you back home before you showed you face in public."

Kayla purchased the dress and they headed back to her apartment.

"This is where I say goodbye," Jocelyn embraced Kayla outside the apartment door.

"Bye, Sweetie. Thanks for shopping with me."

"Anytime." She started down the stairs, but turned and yelled over her shoulder, "Don't forget protection!"

"Bye, idiot!"

* * *

"Wow." Deeks's jaw dropped as he beheld Kayla in the doorway.

She swung her dress back and forth shyly. "Not so bad yourself."

"Have fun, you two!" Pat smiled innocently after the couple.

He was dressed simply, in a button-up shirt and his 'good' jeans. A goofy grin spread across his face, crinkling his eyes and making them sparkle. Taking her hand, he walked her down the stairs.

"Pat has been a godsend," Kayla gushed. "She dragged me back to LA, gave me cheap rent, helped me with _everything_, and watches Andy whenever I need it. It was a serious twist of fate when she found me five years ago."

"Yeah, she told me…you trust her, right?"

"Five years, and she has yet to let me down."

"It just seems a bit too fortuitous."

"Nervous about the babysitter?" Kayla laughed. "I was just as suspicious as you are, but she proved herself. I wasn't about to move back to LA for nothing. We lived here without a blip…at least until you showed up."

"Okay then."

"So, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he whispered mysteriously, leading her to his motorcycle.

"Martyyy," she begged, eyeing the bike.

He took her hand. "Do you trust me?"

"Not as far as I can throw you," she smirked.

He frowned. "Really?"

Laughing hesitantly, she replied, "I'm trying really hard not to run away right now."

"Well, can you trust me for a night?" He looked down at her, eyebrows raised.

Kayla paused. This was just a date, not the rest of her life. He wasn't going to abandon her. If she hesitated any longer, he would know something was up. She had no desire to be a major buzzkill. She pushed her qualms aside. "Sure."

He whipped a bandana out of his pocket and Kayla baulked. "You aren't kidnapping me, are you?"

In response, he wrapped the fabric around her eyes. "Trust me," he whispered. His breath on her ear sent a shiver down her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and goosebumps prickled on her arms.

The sense of sight gone, she leaned on him to lead her forward. He kept his hand on her arm as he swung his leg over the bike, then placed her hand on the bike so she could climb on clumsily.

He reached around to clasp her butt pushing her hips closer. "Watch the hands, loverboy," she warned, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Deeks only laughed as the motorcycle roared to life. They drove off, and Kayla held on for dear life.

"I'm pretty sure that a blindfolded motorcycle passenger is not exactly the safest idea," she yelled in his ear.

Even without sight, she knew he was grinning. "Don't worry, I'm a professional."

She rolled her eyes, but snuggled closer, laying her head on his shoulder. The warmth of her body sent chills through his, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face. He had her, if only for the night, and he planned to do everything in his power to keep her.

"We're here!" He announced, and she began to take the blindfold off. "No, no, not yet," he scolded.

He helped her off the bike, offering his arm to steady her.

"Ready?" He asked.

Kayla could only nod. He pulled the blindfold off slowly. Squinting to focus, she glanced around the street.

"I've never been here before."

"Technically, neither have I," Deeks said mysteriously. At her quizzical look, he elaborated. "I came through here on an undercover gig. A serial killer was posing as a talent scout on karaoke night."

"Let me guess," she cut him off. "You were just his type?"

"Yup."

"So what was your alias?"

"I was a Swedish model turned aspiring musician named Sven."

Kayla laughed aloud. "And they bought it?"

"Well, we caught the guy!"

"He didn't go for you, did he?" She raised her eyebrow. "You lucked out."

"I followed him; he went for Shiniqua the rapper."

"_Das burn_!" she teased with her best Scandinavian accent.

"What?" he defended, opening the door for her. "Isn't it a good thing serial killers don't go for me?"

"I suppose," she sighed. "Do I have to call you Sven?"

"No; once we made the bust, it came out I was LAPD."

"Then why come back?"

"Well, I don't usually revisit my old haunts, but this is the one place I stop by every now and then."

"Still waiting for a talent scout?"

"Oh, I just like the atmosphere."

The bar was full but not packed. The lights were dimmed on the floor, but a strip of ceiling spotlights illuminated the small stage. Pictures and news clippings lined one wall; a sign declared it the Wall of Fame.

"Are you on there?"

He pointed proudly to a framed headshot. His blonde hair was overly styled into a pretentious coif; eyeliner was visible along his lash lines. Black lettering spelled out SVEN at the bottom.

"No last name?"

"No first," he replied with a grin. "I got to be one of those single-syllable stars."

"How'd you get on the wall?"

"When

"Sven!" The woman behind the bar greeted him with a kiss on each cheek.

"Stella!" He embraced her dramatically, slipping into the accent for the fun of it.

It was all Kayla could do to keep a straight face.

"How rude of me," Deeks interrupted himself. "I present my companion, the lovely Kayla."

"Still charming the ladies?" Stella nudged Deeks. "Sven had quite the swarm of groupies."

"Did he now?" Kayla's eyes danced with humor.

"It's true," he sighed, "but Kayla is making an honest man out of me."

"It's a chore," Kayla chimed in, "but we're making progress."

Stella winked. "Honey, he's worth the effort."

Another man joined Stella, clearly her husband. "You guys want something to eat before the show? It's on the house."

"That's not necessary, Jake," Deeks objected.

"I insist."

"Will you be performing tonight?" Stella asked excitedly.

"I was thinking about it," he admitted, "but I have to talk to Charlie first."

"Charlie runs the sound on karaoke night," Stella explained. "But he plays the guitar or piano if he knows the tune."

"Will you be singing?" Jake asked Kayla.

"Oh, hell no," she blushed. "I don't sing."

"She sings," Deeks interjected, "and she has a good voice, too."

"He just thinks that because love is deaf."

"I just think you're being modest," Stella encouraged. "Sing! We don't judge here."

"You have a talent scout in the audience once a month!"

"He's not here tonight."

Kayla blushed furiously, more uncomfortable by the second. "No thanks. I think we can give 'Sven' the spotlight tonight. His star power is enough for the both of us, I'm sure."

As Marty spoke with the emcee, Stella sat Kayla at a prime table.

"So how long have you known Deeks?"

"We've known each other since the police academy."

"So you're a cop, too?"

"Hell, no," Kayla sighed. "I teach parent-child cooking classes."

"Oh," Stella smiled. "Was he different back then?"

"Not so much. He still wanted the spotlight, but he's mellowed out. What was he like when you met him?"

"You mean what was Sven like?"

Kayla nodded eagerly.

"Honestly, he was an over-the-top douchebag."

"Was he any good?"

"His voice was fine, but it was his performance that drew the crowd."

"Did you seriously buy the whole Swedish-model-turned-musician act?"

"I thought something was off about him, but we all just thought it was him. He was so committed and confident, that we just stopped trying to figure him out and enjoyed the show."

"Yeah, Marty never understood the concept of a small lie. He goes big with everything."

"We've noticed."

"So," Kayla changed the subject, "How long have you and Jake been together?"

She glanced warmly at her husband, catching his eye. He grinned back. "Going on fifteen years."

"What's your secret?"

"Honey," she smiled knowingly, "there isn't really any secret. We're just partners in everything, and we're both foolishly in love."

Deeks returned, drinks in hand. "What are you guys talking about?"

"You," Kayla teased. "Apparently you're not as convincing of a Swede as you assumed."

"I may have gotten carried away," he admitted. "It was a fun case; no organized crime or hit men, just a single psycho. I could do whatever I wanted as long as I caught the guy."

"Was the eyeliner necessary?"

"Completely."

The lights dimmed and the emcee took the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat tonight. One of our special guests has graced us with his presence. Say hello to our very own SVEN!"

Deeks jogged up onto the stage and took the mic from Charlie. In turn, the emcee grabbed his guitar.

"This goes out to the beautiful girl in the front row!" Deeks announced. Kayla felt the blush creep up her neck.

Charlie beat out a four-count before striking the first chords. She recognized the song instantly, smiling as Deeks leapt into action.

_On the other side of a street I knew_

_Stood a girl that looked like you_

_I guess that's déjà vu_

_But I thought this can't be true_

_'Cause you moved to West L.A._

_Or New York or Santa Fe_

_Or wherever to get away from me_

Kayla knew he was an energetic guy, but this was a whole new level of energy. He paced the stage, practically bouncing on the black platforms, projecting to the crowd. He really did have a fantastic stage presence.

_Oh, but that one night was more than just right_

_I didn't leave you 'cause I was all through_

_Oh, I was overwhelmed and frankly scared as hell_

_Because I really fell for you_

His eyes never left hers, and the audience noticed. She wanted to dig a hole in the ground and die of embarrassment, but chose to return his gaze. Her cheeks were on fire; she covered them with her hands, but she couldn't look away.

_Oh, I swear to you_

_I'll be there for you_

_This is not a drive by_

_Just a shy guy looking for a two ply_

_Hefty bag to hold my love_

_When you move me everything is groovy_

_They don't like it sue me_

_Either way you do me_

Kayla knew that this wasn't just a song. This was a renewal of his promise, in his own way. The public display matched his nature; Deeks never half-assed anything. Whether there were bad guys to catch, people to save, jokes to be made, or women to be loved, he went all the way.

_On the upside of a downward spiral_

_My love for you went viral_

_And I loved you every mile you drove away_

_But now here we are again_

_So let's skip to 'how you been'_

_And get down to the 'more than friends' at last_

Any other girl would think Deeks was showing off, turning the spotlight on himself. This was, of course, the literal truth, but Kayla knew him better. This was the most romantic thing he had ever done for her. He was saying that he cared—he had always cared—and he didn't care how damaged she was. Of course, he had been telling her the same thing all along, but somehow the words of the song hit her deeper than the conversation. Perhaps it was the delivery, or maybe it was that she was finally opening up to him.

_Oh, but that one night is still the highlight_

_I didn't need you until I came to_

_And I was overwhelmed _

_And frankly scared as hell_

_Because I really fell for you_

Deeks needed her to comprehend his meaning. He stepped off the stage—the spotlight followed him—as he took Kayla's hand. His eyes begged her to understand. He didn't like to put his heart on the line, but he had one date—one shot to get the girl.

_Please believe that when I leave_

_There's nothing up my sleeve but love for you_

_And a little time to get my head together too_

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. It was all the confirmation he needed.

_On the other side of a street I knew_

_Stood a girl that looked like you_

_I guess that's déjà vu_

_But I thought this can't be true_

He grinned widely, singing the last chorus with gusto.

_Oh, I swear to you_

_I'll be there for you_

_This is not a drive by_

With the last chords strumming on the guitar, he spun a surprised Kayla with one hand, dipping her into a kiss. She returned it, smiling against his lips. As he set her upright, it was all he could do to keep his feet on the ground. Kayla, of course, blushed beet red, her cheeks hot from embarrassment, but, with Deeks holding her, she could stand a little awkwardness.

* * *

Author's Note: The song Deeks sang is Drive By by Train.


	22. Chapter 22

They didn't go home straight away. The night was still young, and Kayla was high on life; it was her first date in years. The motorcycle rumbled between her thighs as she squeezed her hands around Marty's waist. They zipped down the beachside road, the California breeze rippling against her skin, and she sighed contentedly.

How could I have missed this? She wondered. Why did I put this off for so long?

They stopped at a beachside bar. It was a sturdy establishment, furnished with found materials and recycled wood. Driftwood chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow across the bar, which opened right onto a beachfront patio.

Deeks ordered a couple of beers before joining Kayla on the patio. She stood against the railing, breathing in the evening air. The wind played with her hair; she looked like a siren worth of Odysseus himself. He feared to touch her, afraid the contact might cause her to disappear, but dared to put his arm around her waist, handing her the glass of beer.

"So," he started, "how have you been?"

"I'm okay. Andy is still having trouble with the bullies, and—"

"Not Andy," he cut her off. "Tonight is about you."

"Since when are you this sweet?" she queried, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm always sweet," Deeks responded cheekily.

"No, you're not always sweet. So help me, Marty Deeks, if you're gaming me, I will rip your balls off."

"Charming!" he laughed. "I'm not gaming you. I mean it. How are you?"

Kayla thought about it, fiddling with the bottle in her hand. "Honestly? I'm tired. I love my kid and love my life, but I'm so exhausted from being the 'mom' character 24/7. Discounting the argument I always start on this topic, I haven't gotten used to the responsibility and I spend these days resenting him, even if I know I shouldn't."

"Kaye…" He laid his hand on hers.

"Look, I don't want to be a buzzkill."

"Kaye," Deeks stopped her, squeezing her hand. "It's not like we're strangers. I want to know you, the good and the bad."

Kayla blinked and mimed a search around the bar. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Marty Deeks?"

"What?"

"That sounded like a line out of a cheesy movie."

"How so?"

"I want to _know_ you. The good and the bad," Kayla repeated back to him, stressing every word.

"Was it that bad?"

"It's weird," Kayla shook her head, then grinned. "I've never understood sappy gestures. I just figured they were a way to get into a girl's pants."

Marty smirked, but did not respond.

"Are we so different from who we used to be?" Kayla pondered aloud. "You used to hate feelings and all that crap, and now you want to get all sensitive!"

"One night only, babe." Deeks thought for a moment. "What about you? When did you forget what fun is?"

Kayla gasped in mock offense and shoved him playfully.

"There's the old you—But seriously! You used to be so much fun! Remember sneaking in through the gate at the academy?"

Kayla blushed. "That was just about the only fun I ever had. I was free during my pregnancy, but you can't even drink! Responsiblility kicked in and I sort of shut down."

"I'm fun."

"You're also a heap of trouble."

"I think a little trouble is just what you need," Deeks growled, leaning in close to kiss her.

"You've gone soft, Mr. Deeks," she murmured.

"You want to get out of here?" Deeks breathed in her ear.

"How many times have you used that line?"

His lips hovered above hers. "On you, or ever?"

"On second thought, I don't even want to know," Kayla laughed, closing the gap between their lips. She broke away, searching his eyes. "I never expected you to remain faithful. I compared you to a person I created in my fantasies, and that wasn't fair. We only slept together once; you owed me nothing. I can't blame you for forgetting about me, and I certainly can't blame you for what you didn't know."

"Kayla," he cut her off, "I made a mistake by leaving without letting you know in person. I never forgot about you. Every girl I was with after you—you were the golden standard. No one was ever good enough. I did what I knew best, sabotaging every relationship, no matter how short or long. Because I knew what I wanted—you. I never dared to hope I'd see you again."

Kayla turned to face him. "I'll do my best not to compare you to Super Deeks."

"Psh, babe, I am super—_super awesome_."

Laughing, Kayla hip checked him lightly. "You haven't let me down yet."

"By the way, you're pretty awesome too."

Suddenly interested in the fabric of his shirt, she stroked the material. "I don't know…I spend my life wrapped around my kid, I don't know how to live outside of my kid and my business, and the only friends are the ones I've screwed over."

He lifted her chin. "Shut up. You're raising that kid, you've let Jocelyn back in, and you're trusting me again. I think that's spectacular. Don't doubt yourself again; it makes me mad."

"How do I turn off this brain, Marty? It's always circling and I'm always someplace else, be it where I think I should be, or where I want to be. I'm never where I am, in the moment."

His lips enveloped hers, cutting her off. She inhaled in through her nose before pulling herself closer to him. They broke away, breathless.

"Did that work?" he smirked.

"I don't know," she breathed, "Maybe we should try again."

Their lips crashed together again, and Kayla committed where whole body to the kiss. Her arms wrapped around him: one around his neck, the other on his back. In turn, he snaked his arm around her waist, steadying her torso with his hand. The other tangled in her windblown hair. The stars hung above them, as if looking down from afar.

Time blurred together. They were at the bar, they were on the motorcycle, and they were back in his loft in what felt like a second—until it came to a screeching halt.

* * *

Kayla stepped into the apartment apprehensively. He had cleaned, she noted in an attempt to distract herself from her pounding heart. Deeks sensed her hesitance, kissing her gently.

"You know, nothing has to happen tonight," he whispered.

She shook her head, returning her lips to his. The kiss lasted all of two seconds before she broke away, shaking her head. "You should know I haven't...done this since that night."

He knew this, yet the confession still surprised him. "How?"

"I didn't trust anyone, I didn't want a meaningless relationship, and I was still stuck on this blonde idiot." She paused, eyes downcast. "It's okay if you don't want me. I understand."

Taking her head in his hands, he forced her to look at him. "Kaye," he breathed, "you're all I've ever wanted."

"What if I disappoint you?"

"Impossible."

She searched his face for any signs of deception. Finding none, a glimmer of trust filled her eyes. It was the same look she had given him all those years ago. She trusted him to take care of her. Closing her eyes, she closed the gap between them.

This kiss was different from every other. It was full of confidence and full of want. It wasn't frenzied, like that first kiss back at the apartment, and it certainly wasn't fearful. She was just as inexperienced as their first time together, but he moved his lips on hers, teaching her to mold her mouth on his without words.

Somehow, the knowledge that he was the only person ever to have her was more sensuous than if she carried the experience of many lovers. The heat built between them and he pushed her up against the door, fumbling with her dress. It unzipped, the bodice gathering around her hips. In return, she stripped his shirt off. She allowed herself a moment to appreciate his body, scars and all. Her hands slid up his chest to entwine behind his neck, he pulled on her skirt. The fabric pooled at her feet. Slipping his hands underneath her thighs, he lifted her off the ground. Smiling against his lips, she kicked off her heels and wrapped her legs around his hips. A moan escaped her throat and he needed no more encouragement.

Marty stumbled across the room, tripping on Monty before finally making it to the bedroom. He dropped Kayla on the bed-she shrieked in surprise-before slamming the door in the mutt's face. Grinning mischievously, he claimed her lips once more.

* * *

One in the morning came and went at the Townsend apartment. Pat picked up the phone gleefully.

"Well?" the voice on the other line prompted without a greeting.

"The date seems to be going well; they aren't home yet."

"You called me to tell me they're sleeping together?"

"I'm calling to tell you the evil plan is working."

"This is far from evil," the mystery voice contradicted. "This is for their own good."

"Does he know about me?" Pat asked. "He seems suspicious."

"You're babysitting his son; Mr. Deeks doesn't trust easily."

"Well, he has reason not to trust me."

"Agreed."

* * *

A breeze wafted in through the open window, giving the bedroom an airy, peaceful atmosphere. Kayla felt as though she could breathe for the first time in years. As the butterflies settled, a calm washed over her. Sitting up, she wrapped the sheet around her chest. The cotton felt sensual against her naked body. Her skin still tingled in all the places Marty had touched her and she smiled, remembering.

Deeks sat up slowly, kissing her exposed shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "Why are you awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he grinned.

Kayla shifted to lean against him, smiling ruefully. "You sort of rocked my body. The aftershocks wake me up."

Deeks laughed into her neck as Kayla rubbed his back. They were comfortable in the silence. There were no arguments or debates; they sat in quiet harmony. Kayla's eyebrows knitted together as she felt the scars beneath her fingers. Leaning back, she took in the graffiti on his back.

"Marty…" she breathed. There were so many. She had experience with some of these scars; she could recognize the few bullet holes and shrapnel spray, but some were beyond her. He turned away.

Kayla was at a loss as to his shame. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen him like this. Running her thumb over her the first bullet hole, she leaned down and kissed it.

"Kaye," he started, but trailed off.

"What about this one?"

He took a moment to respond. "Bomb threat in Hollywood. Terrorist shot me."

"I bet you landed some actress after saving the world that day," Kayla laughed.

"If I answer yes, will you punch me?"

"No; you have enough scars." She moved her hand lower on his back, finding her next choice, a small, discolored wound. "What about this one?"

"Cigarette burn from my dad."

Kayla kissed it gently before spotting a large welt. It was faded, but the angry streak spanned half of his back.

"What about this one?" Her fingers ran down the scar.

Deeks shuddered and tensed. "My dad, the day I shot him."

He expected her to freak out, or pity him, or do one of a million things that would ruin their relationship. He had no desire to be babied or judged based on his actions all those years ago, especially if they didn't know the whole story. He had defended himself one too many times, and he had no desire to do it again.

Kayla leaned back, and Deeks hung his head. He had blown it. He should have made up some story, and now he would lose her. But, just as she had moved away, her lips connected with the scar tenderly, holding there for a long moment before moving upward. Her arm wrapped around his waist, and her other hand lifted his head to look at her. She kissed the cut on his eyebrow before looking him squarely in the eye and capturing his lips gently.

He didn't move at first, so surprised at her response, but feeling her lips move on his, he deepened the kiss, holding her face in his hands. He rolled onto her, and together, they fell back onto the pillows.

* * *

The smell of bacon wafted into the bedroom, causing Deeks's nose to twitch. His eyes opened slowly, registering the scent before he leapt out of bed, slipping on his jeans from the night before.

Kayla stood at the stove. She was freshly showered, her hair damp. Reaching up to grab the salt, he realized that she was wearing one of his shirts…and nothing else.

"I think you may be the perfect woman," he yawned, entering the kitchen.

"Aww, you're just saying that because I made you bacon." She leaned over the counter.

"I do love bacon." He met her halfway with a kiss.

"There's this age-old secret that mother pass down to their daughters: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"I was going to make you breakfast, but you were supposed to sleep later."

"You already made me breakfast," she replied suggestively.

"I'd have a witty comeback, but this looks too delicious." He dug in.


	23. Chapter 23

Deeks swaggered into the bullpen that morning, high on life. Leather jacket, fresh jeans, favorite t-shirt, perfect hair…everything was just right.

"Somebody just got laid!" Kensi sang, poking him in the side.

"Heh, maybe. How is this a surprise?"

"Because you haven't had that look in a month!"

"Ooh, what's going on?" Callen asked.

"Deeks got laid!"

"It's a miracle!"

"Very funny, guys, but I get laid all the time."

"You haven't been laid in a month," Callen scoffed.

"How can you people tell?" Deeks asked, flustered.

"Please," Sam walked in. "I can read you like a book."

Feeling like the wind had been blown out of his sails, Deeks plopped down at his desk, putting his feet up. Kensi sidled up, leaning on the desk.

"Was it Kayla?"

Deeks opened his mouth to answer, but Callen cut him off. "Who's Kayla?"

"Oh! You remember that girl that punched Deeks?"

"Be more specific…" Sam prodded.

"The one that punched him at that hotel bombing."

"Oh, her!" Callen laughed.

"She's cute," Sam teased, patting Deeks on the head.

Deeks jumped up. "You know what? She is! I think she's great!"

"Sure, whatever," Sam taunted, following Callen out of the bullpen.

Kensi plopped her arm around his shoulder. "You know what, Deeks? I think she is great."

"Thank you, Kens," Deeks replied gratefully.

Her grip tightened. "You mess this up, and I will castrate you."

"What? Why? What did I do to you?"

"It's a sisterhood thing. Don't screw over the mother of your kid. Twice."

Deeks shuddered under her glare. "Understood."

* * *

"Hello, there!" Pat laughed as Kayla waltzed into the apartment. "I take it your date went well."

"You could say that..." Kayla sang. "Listen, I'll take Andy to school. You can head home."

"Great; I'll see you at C4K."

Kayla kissed her cheek and bid Pat goodbye.

* * *

"Did you and daddy have a good date?" Andy asked, skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk.

"Yup! And thanks for helping with dinner, sweetie."

He danced around her. "Did you kiss him?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

Kayla blushed. "Yes."

"Is he going to live with us now?"

"No!" Kayla stopped him mid-hop, commanding his full attention. "Just because I went one date doesn't mean we're living together!"

Andy pouted. "I wish he was."

"I know you do, sweetie, but there's a lot of complicated adult stuff to work out."

"It's not complicated! You're my mom, he's my dad, we should be a family!"

"We are a family!" Kayla stressed. "And we both love you very much! But we can't all live together—not yet."

"When?" Andy looked up, his questioning eyes like a knife to Kayla's heart.

"I don't know, sweetie."

* * *

Deeks couldn't wait to see Kayla again; he stopped at the apartment first before picking Andy up from school. Despite the team's teasing, he was still walking on clouds. His patience had paid off, and he was closer to securing Kayla's affections.

"Hello, darling," he sang, swinging the door open with a bang.

"Hey, sweetheart!"

Marty hopped up on the counter as she sliced the onions. "So, I was thinking…what if we all had dinner together tonight?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Pizza?"

"We can just order pizza out," he suggested.

"You haven't tasted my pizza," she objected.

"Fine," he laughed. "Have it your way."

"You go get Andy; I'll handle the pizza."

"Deal."

* * *

Kayla kneaded the pizza dough roughly as Deeks and Andy wrestled in the other room. One more bang and she was going to lose it. At first, it had been cute; father-son bonding warmed her heart. But now—

THUD!

"Boys!" she yelled, glad she had the dough to punch rather than a person.

Deeks crawled on all fours next to her, then bounced up, inches from her face. "Yes?"

"You're being so loud, I can't concentrate on dinner. I'm assuming you want dinner."

"Yes, please!" Andy squealed from the playroom.

Marty grinned. "We've got this under control. You need to lighten up."

He tossed a pinch of flour in her direction.

"Lighten up?" she breathed exasperatedly. "I have done the laundry, cleaned the house, gone to the grocery store, and prepared the ingredients for this meal, and if it goes wrong, no dinner for us!"

"So order out. You don't have to make everything from scratch."

"Can we have Dominos?" Andy yelled.

"Andy, you're not helping!" Kayla replied.

"Do you know how to have fun?" Deeks asked, flicking more flour at her.

"Yes, I do," she responded emphatically.

"What do you do for fun?"

"I…I…I take Andy to the beach and play games with him and go to the movies."

"When was the last time you had all-out no-holds-barred fun?"

Kayla raised an eyebrow. "Are we still talking about fun?"

Deeks leaned in; she could feel his breath on her lips. "You tell me."

She closed her eyes, leaning in for the kiss, then POOF! She was hit with a fistful of flour.

"MARTY!" she yelled, "You're going to ruin dinner!"

Her boyfriend had already reloaded. "Let's just order in!" He threw the second handful; it hit her in the chest.

Andy rushed in to catch a piece of the action, and Deeks handed him some flour. "Ready?" The two boys lifted their hands in unison.

"But I bought all the ingredients! I'm testing this for C4K!"

"Stop whining and let yourself have fun!" Deeks laughed. He turned to Andy. "FIRE!"

The soft thwack of flour covered her face, and Kayla finally smiled. "Alrighty, gentlemen. You wanted war, I'll give you war!"

She took two handfuls of flour and tossed them at the boys. Flour flew, hands waved, and the cloud of powder grew. Deeks caught the bag of flour out of the corner of his eye. It was a large one; Kayla bought in bulk. Picking it up by the end, he dumped it all on Kayla's head.

"AUGH!" Andy yelled. "Mom's the Flour Monster!"

In spite of herself, Kayla laughed, flicking as much flour as she could onto Deeks before wrapping her arm around him.

"Alright, mini monster, go shake your clothes off outside and leave your shoes on the patio!"

Andy ran to obey, puffs of flour following his every footstep.

Deeks smiled down at his flour-covered friend. "Was that fun?"

"Yeah," Kayla responded grudgingly, "But you're buying me a new bag of flour."

He blew on her face, dusting off the last layer of flour before leaning in. "Small price to pay," he grinned before he kissed her.

There, in that flour-covered kitchen, Kayla let go of herself, leaning into the kiss and arcing her back. She wrapped one arm around his back, the other hand laced through his shaggy hair. His arms tightened enough to lift her off of the floor and place her on the counter. Her legs wrapped around his hips, wishing she could have more of him.

"Eww!" came the groan at the door. Andy grimaced at them and the twosome broke away guiltily. The boy bolted into the playroom.

Deeks set her back down, but not before stealing one more kiss.

"Thank you," Kayla smiled.

"You're welcome. I'm free to offer my services anytime," he replied playfully.

"I mean, thank you for reminding me what it feels like to have fun. It's been a while."

"Clearly ," Deeks teased. "I'll have to give you more lessons."

Kayla stood on her tiptoes for a kiss. "I'm open to negotiation."

The smoke alarm interrupted them, and Deeks laughed. "Takeout?"

"Fine, you can order delivery. But you're cleaning this up."

"Do I have to?"

"Oh, yes. And if you're nice, I might even help."


	24. Chapter 24

Since Marty was unveiled as Andy's father, the two of them had spent as much time together as possible-at the arcade, playing catch, going to the beach (Deeks was afraid to tell Kayla he was teaching Andy to surf), all ending with dinner at Kayla's house.

"Marty?" Andy asked, tossing the baseball to his father.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you leave mom and me while I growed up?"

Deeks chuckled softly, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of

Andy's serious face. He pursed his lips, mulling over the words, before passing the ball back.

"You know I'm a cop, right?"

Andy caught the ball, nodding.

"Well, sometimes, the bad guys are really sneaky. So sneaky that I have to pretend to be someone else until I catch them."

"Why didn't you come see me after you caught him?" He lobbed the ball back.

Deeks juggled the ball thoughtfully. "Because there are lots of sneaky bad guys, and I'm really good at catching them."

"Can't you stop pretending and come home?"

Deeks shook his head, smiling at Andy's naivety. "No, Sport. I can't let anyone I'm chasing find you until I've caught him." He threw the ball back.

"I don't want you to go away again."

"I don't want to leave," Deeks replied with conviction. "But I promise you, from now on, I'll always come back to you."

Andy walked up at him, a grin so familiar; it was like looking in the mirror. The child wrapped his arms around his father's waist.

"I love you, Dad."

Deeks froze. Andy had never called him that before. Reaching down, he mussed the kid's hair.

"Love you too, Sport."

* * *

"Phew! He's in bed," Kayla sighed, plopping onto the sofa and leaning into Marty.

He kissed her forehead, adjusting his body to mold against hers. "He called me dad today."

Kayla laughed. "I guess it's official then. We are now parents."

"We're not even married and we're an old married couple. Look at us: we bicker, we laugh, and we still manage to have mind-blowing sex."

She flailed her arm at him in an attempt to slap his rear. "And, baby, you are fine to boot."

They laughed, and he kissed her neck. "You're not so bad yourself."

"I've been meaning to talk to you; Andy's eighth birthday is next week. We usually just invite his class and have party games and cake in the park. Will you be able to make it?"

"Make it? I wouldn't miss it for the world! I have missed seven birthdays. There is no chance I would miss one more."

"Good. You'll be getting an invitation shortly; he's designing them himself."

"He really loves to draw, doesn't he?"

"He really does. I've never seen a kid so sure of what he loves at such a young age. I do my best to encourage it."

"I await my invitation."

"He's counting on you. Don't let him down."

Deeks raised his eyebrows and put on an innocent face. "Who, me?"

* * *

He was late. The jackass was late.

_Classic Deeks,_ she stewed, _never there when he's needed._

Andy looked up at her worried face. "Don't worry, mom; he'll be here."

The party progressed, and Kayla became more and more frustrated.

He said he would be here. Rain, sleet, snow...he is finally in his son's life, and he's already bailing! She checked her phone for the umpteenth time. No missed calls, no texts.

"Mom, you okay?" Andy asked, hugging her waist.

"Yeah, honey, I'm fine. Ready to cut the cake?"

"I thought we were going to wait for dad."

"Honey, I don't think he's coming."

"He promised!" Andy was so sure. "He'll be here!"

"How about we save him a cupcake?" She coaxed, faking a smile for her son's sake.

She pulled the cake out of its hiding place. It was truly impressive. Two tiers, the bottom red-and-white stripes of the frosting, the top tier blue and starry, capped with a shield replica, exactly like Captain America's. Gum paste figurines, one the Red Skull, others Hydra soldiers, climbed the cake to reach the Captain, standing above it all. A ring of cupcakes surrounded the masterpiece, all with sugar 'bang!' and 'pow!' shapes.

There was a round of applause from the parents and _awesome_!s from the kids. Kayla had truly outdone herself, but she would be lying if she said she hadn't pulled out all the stops for Deeks.

The lights dimmed, the candles lit, and Andy took his place in front of the cake.

"Smile, honey!" She called, pulling out her point-and-shoot. "Make a wish!"

Andy squeezed his eyes tight and clasped his hands as if in prayer before blowing all eight candles out. Kayla glanced at her photo.

Another birthday without his father.

* * *

Andy carried the last cupcake all the way home.

"Sorry he didn't come, Andy."

"Maybe he forgot it was at the park. He'll be at home, I know it."

He was so sure. Kayla couldn't believe his confidence; she was almost jealous of his ability to believe in his father. Instead, Kayla kept her silence; reason would only dampen his day.

Hours passed. The cupcake sat on the counter, a sad reminder every time Kayla looked at it. The sun went down, and bedtime came and went.

"Okay, kiddo, go get your jammies on."

"There's still time; he might still come."

Kayla nodded, smiling softly. "He might."

* * *

About ten o'clock, Deeks burst through the door.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" he sang.

"Shhh!" Kayla hushed, but she was too late.

Andy bolted from his room. "Dad!" He wrapped his arms around Marty's hips.

"Hey, Sport! Happy birthday!" With a ruffle of Andy's hair, Deeks freed himself from his son's embrace. "Here you go!"

Deeks had opted for a gift bag. He learned long ago that he couldn't wrap a gift if he tried. Bag plus tissue plus gift equaled dignity. Though Andy tore through the tissue paper in two seconds, the adornment was worth it.

"Awesome!" he squealed, unearthing a frisbee, painted to look like Captain America's shield. "Can we play now?"

"It's pitch black outside! How about we play the next time I stop by. Deal?" he offered his hand.

"Deal." They clasped hands and hugged.

"Okay, sleepy kid, go back to bed. We can play with that tomorrow." Kayla laid a hand on Andy's shoulder, pointing him to the bedroom.

Deeks stared at Kayla but knew better than to contradict her rule. "I'll put him down."

"So how was your birthday?" Deeks asked as they headed down the hall.

Andy described his birthday in animated tones, climbing in to bed. Marty knelt beside the bed, listening to every word. As mad as she was, Kayla enjoyed watching the two interact. Even after Marty skipped Andy's party, the child was so forgiving. His face was so lively. He waved his hands, describing the games. He laughed, recounting the jokes his friends told, and Marty laughed with him.

"Andy, it's time to sleep," Kayla said softly.

Andy pouted, but Marty brushed the hair out of the kid's face and kissed his forehead. "'Night, kiddo."

Marty passed Kayla, who closed the door behind him. The silence was deafening during the walk to the kitchen. Kayla shut the kitchen door behind them.

"Sorry I was late," Marty sighed, turning around. "There was this case…"

Kayla whirled on him. The way her face was contorted, it was obvious she was trying to retain her cool.

"Sorry?" Her voice shook as she tried to yell at him without actually being loud.

"Yes, I'm sorry. You know how it is with a case."

"It may have just been his eighth birthday, no big deal for you, but it was his first birthday with a dad! It should have been special!"

"Look, I tried!"

"You could have called, texted, anything to let me know you weren't coming."

"They don't exactly give us time to text during a shootout!" he reasoned, but it was clear she had already scripted this argument in her head.

"Well, they should! Don't any of them have family?"

"One," Deeks admitted, "but she's not exactly your usual wife."

Kayla scoffed. "And how many birthdays has he missed?"

"I don't know," Deeks shot back. "We don't exactly have time to share intimate details when we're being shot at."

"Right. You could at least let me know when you're going out on assignment."

"Honey, every day's an assignment."

The argument was clearly not going as she had anticipated. "Right, I forgot: you're a badass."

"I don't know what to tell you! I would have told you if I could, but I can't change what happened!"

"I just don't feel like you're trying to be a part of this family."

"Part—part of this family? I have done nothing but put my heart and soul into this!" Deeks threw his hands up in the air. "If anything, you're the one who isn't all in to this relationship."

"ME?" Kayla's voice jumped an octave, doubling in volume. "How is that even possible? I raise this kid every day, put food on the table, and still find time to look gorgeous for you."

"I'm not talking about family. I'm talking about us. You act like all this is a chore and blame me when anything goes wrong!"

"That's because you're the one to blame!"

"Are you honestly that shallow? You and me—we're a thing. Relationships aren't just dressing pretty and kissing the guy. Seriously; have you ever dated?"

"No," Kayla sputtered, "But I'm trying!"

"You're really not," he laughed disparagingly. "I've practically been romancing you and Andy."

"Wow," Kayla held her hand on her heart and tilted her head back sarcastically. "Is this romance? Because I'm totally not feeling the love."

"Honey, you don't even trust me. I've been trying day after day to get through to you, but you haven't changed; anyone who wants to get close to you gets shut out."

"Shut out? I'm dating you; I let you into my little two-person family!"

Oh, so you deigned to let me in, but you don't let anything change! You're a control freak!"

"Control freak?" Kayla was furious.

"Yeah! I have to do everything by your rules and if I misstep, you freak and throw me out!"

"Well, you're very vexing! You have a tendency to mess with the equilibrium of my house—my family!"

"Equilibrium? It's our family! I hate to break it to you, but he's _our_ son."

"You practically injected the product and vacated the premises!"

"Because I didn't know that you were pregnant."

"What about the promise you made? You said you'd protect me from my father!"

"Seriously? I—You know what, I don't have to put up with this. Expunged, I believe, is the word you used." Deeks pointed his finger, eyes crazy. "You are out of your mind! You are obsessed with the fact that I left! Get over it! I left! One night together, and it's like you mourned me for eight years!"

"It's hard to let things go when you live with a constant reminder! It's like looking at your face every moment of every day!" She poked him in the chest. "Damn straight I think about you every day. It looks like you spent your time forgetting!"

"I did, until you showed up at my crime scene!"

"I was just doing my job."

"And I was trying to do mine…until a violent idiot sucker punched me."

Kayla scoffed. "It's not my fault you're a pretentious moron who doesn't remember who he sleeps with."

"You clearly have a vendetta for any guy you did sleep with."

"Well, when the one guy I've slept with knocks me up, it kind of makes an impression."

"You were on birth control!"

"Ninety-nine percent effective, honey, ninety-nine percent," Kayla smirked. "Your little swimmers seem especially capable."

Deeks smirked, eyes glimmering smugly. "That's a compliment."

Kayla shuddered. "You're an ass."

"And you've run out of things to say."

"I still hate you."

"You're not the first."

"I doubt any of them hate you as much as I."

Marty paused for a moment to think, then frowned in agreement.

Kayla took a deep breath, steadying herself enough to look him in the eye. "You know what? I think this isn't working out."

"You refuse to work with me!"

"Just get out."

"Alrighty, mama bear."

"Could you take me seriously for once?"

"I said get out."

"I—"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." She poked him in the chest with every word for emphasis before opening the door.

Deeks looked down at his girlfriend. The fiery eyes—those flames that he loved—turned on him. A lesser man would disintegrate under the heat, but he maintained his dignity long enough to kiss her on the cheek. Her hand twitched. He knew she wanted to slap him across the face, but she knew a physical attack would negate the entire argument.

"Tell Andy I'll meet him after school to play Frisbee."

Without another word, he stepped outside, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

The next morning, Kayla woke begrudgingly. She frowned at the mirror, disgusted at her reflection, a mixture of dried mascara and tears streaked her cheeks.

"Ugh," she breathed, rubbing the makeup from her cheeks.

She dreaded the thought of facing Andy and telling him his parents had broken up. Surprisingly, she didn't have to. A note on the table informed her that Marty had taken Andy to school and they'd be back after dinner. She wasn't exactly thrilled that Marty had taken her kid without asking, but a larger part was grateful for a peaceful morning after the stress of yesterday. A glass of orange juice and a hardboiled egg later, Kayla reclined on the balcony, surveying the California horizon.

Marty's words had stung. Deep down, she knew their truth, but she had no idea how to solve the conundrum. Not romancing him? What did that even mean? She had allowed him back into her life, what more did he want? She was only protecting herself.

The phone rang.

"Jocelyn?" Kayla wondered why her friend was calling.

"Hon, we were supposed to meet for breakfast!" Jocelyn scolded.

"Oh, sorry, Joce. I guess I forgot." Her voice was monotone, no apology in her tone.

"What's wrong?" Jocelyn demanded.

"Marty and I broke up."

"WHAT?" The scream forced Kayla to hold the phone away from her ear. "No. That's not allowed."

"Who says? Last I checked, I'm in charge of my love life."

"So you broke up with him?"

"Not exactly…"

"I'm coming over."

"Don't you have a job?"

The line clicked, indicating the end of the conversation. There was no point arguing; Jocelyn was a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

"All right, you," Jocelyn hollered, barging into the apartment. "Just what do you think you're doing, breaking up with Deeks?"

Kayla put up a defensive front. "Excuse me? I have every right to break up with my boyfriend."

"This isn't about rights. It's about you being a complete idiot."

"How am I an idiot? Marty was never invested in me or Andy."

"Never invested? Honey, all he did was invest."

"How?" Kayla's asked defiantly.

"He spent every free moment with you and Andy. He waited until you were ready to date him. He didn't sleep with anyone—anyone—from the moment he laid eyes on you at that hotel. He loves you and Andy."

"He really thinks that he can just waltz in here after missing Andy's party, and expect everything to be fine!"

"So what?" Joce asked. "Is Andy mad?"

"No! And that makes me even more angry!"

"So Andy's fine?"

"Yeah!" She threw her arms up in exasperation. "But that's beside the point! He should be trying harder to be a part of this family. If he's not going to try, then he should just go."

Jocelyn stopped her friend. "That's it! I have had enough of your bitching about why Deeks isn't good enough! He has set his life aside to be a part of this family, but the tiniest misstep is reason to throw him out on his ass! Get over yourself!"

"Get over myself? He made me a promise, then left me there to rot! I've raised his son for eight years-"

"-On your own, I know! We're not arguing that he made a stupid mistake, but that's all it was: a mistake! If you think for one second he's hanging around for funsies, you are seriously mistaken!"

"He's just here for a piece of ass."

"Girl, he could be anywhere else picking up finer, less complicated ass, but he's here. He comes back every day. He's trying to make it work, but you won't forgive him! You run this like it's a dictatorship and everyone bows to your rule. Get off your damn high horse, and start a real relationship!"

"What about him ditching me for undercover work after promising he'd look after me?"

"Eight years ago? He was a fool for leaving you, don't get me wrong, but you're missing the point. If you can't live to forgive his mistakes, you're the real fool—for passing up a good man."

"He's not that great. He's irritating. He does everything with this cocky, arrogant swagger. He says the most idiotic things. He doesn't take anything seriously, and is too good looking for his own good."

"Shut up," Jocelyn scolded. "Besides the fact that you won't admit that you're in love with him, the point remains that you refuse to lower your defense mechanisms to let him in."

Kayla opened her mouth to speak, but was shushed.

"He can do the right thing ninety-nine percent of the time, but, when that one percent shows itself, you go postal. You're looking for reasons to say he's incompetent, he doesn't care, etc. The stupid thing is, the more you reject him, the more likely you are of losing him. Just like with a kid, you need to reward good behavior. You haven't given him a single reason to stay besides the guilt that he left his kid—who he didn't even know existed."

"Psh—no…"

"At least open yourself up to the possibility that you might be the problem in this relationship."

"No." Kayla crossed her arms and pouted, an unconscious act, but Jocelyn wanted to laugh. She looked like a little kid whose candy had been taken away.

"You don't love him, then?"

"No."

"So why were you up last night bawling your eyes out?"

Kayla's head shot up. "How do you know that?"

Jocelyn smiled. "You just told me. Hon, love is a two-way street, and right now, he's doing everything he can to please you. If nagging is all you give him in return, you're going to lose him."

The silence was deafening. Kayla breathed slowly, and Jocelyn took a sip of her tea.

"You're right," Kayla whispered.

"Say what now?" Jocelyn held a hand to her ear mockingly.

"I can't lose him."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Finally."

"I've been judgmental, vindictive, inconsiderate—"

"Don't forget 'frigid bitch'," Jocelyn interjected.

"Yeah, that too," Kayla blushed. "How do I get him back?"

"You apologize. I'm assuming that skill is still in your repertoire."

"I might be able to dig it up."


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay; I've been busy celebrating my birthday, but I wanted to get this right. I haven't finished this small arc and it needs to be polished, but I'm working to maintain my schedule of 1-2 chapters per week. Thanks for your patience!

* * *

Kayla paced back and forth, waiting for Deeks to drop Andy off. It was 7 PM, his bedtime. She forced herself to excuse the lateness. After all, this was her chance to make amends. As darkness fell, she wondered if she should call.

_No. He's with Marty. I have to trust Marty._

Sure enough, a knock came at the door. 7:05. She rushed to the door only to find Andy alone on the other side.

"Hey, mom." Andy dropped his bag next to the door, heading for the fridge.

"Hey, sweetie. Where's Marty?"

"Oh, he dropped me off at the stairway."

Kayla ran to the window just in time to see Marty's car drive off into the night.

_Damn it._

"Did he say when he'll be back?"

"He said he'd be gone for a few days."

"Okay."

"Hey—did you fight with him?"

"Why?"

Heaven help Deeks if he mentioned the fight.

"He told me that he wouldn't be coming up to see you anymore."

"Oh." Kayla whispered, mentally slapping herself.

_You've made a real mess of it this time._

* * *

Days passed. Kayla stopped trying to call Marty; he wasn't answering. She would receive a text on the days he picked Andy up from school, but other than that, they had no communication. Kayla forced herself back into her single mom routine. It was harder than she remembered.

The knowledge that he was right made it that much more difficult. Marty would have loved to know that she had been wrong. After all, he loved to lord over people's mistakes. Just thinking about it made her laugh. She could easily picture his facial expression; she could hear the teasing tone of his voice.

_Damn it._

This time, Kayla had screwed it up…and she knew that she didn't deserve a second chance.

Pat helped her in the C4K kitchen, and Kayla was glad for the return to normalcy. The prepped the meals without a word; Pat knew better to bring up Deeks. As Marty was the only thing on Kayla's mind, it made conversation difficult.

"Can I turn on the music?" Pat asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure."

Great, Kayla thought as the music filled the room. Adele.

She rolled her eyes, smiling softly. There was something so wonderful when sad music matched a sad mood. She let her hips sway to the beat, slicing the peppers in cadence with the, music. Swaying became humming. Soon enough, she was singing along. Quietly at first, but as Pat joined in, the spoon became her microphone.

_I'll be waiting for you_

_When you're ready to love me again_

_I'll put my hands up_

_I'll do_

_Everything different; I'll be better to you_

Kayla stopped. She hadn't paid attention to the words before now. Unable to listen to Adele's raw truths, she ejected the CD. Putting her makeshift microphone down, she leaned against the counter and examined the disc in her hand.

"What are you thinking, hon?" Pat asked, noticing her companion's posture.

"I really fucked this up, didn't I?"

Pat inhaled thoughtfully. "I wouldn't take it that far, but you're right. This is a pickle."

"How do I fix this?" Kayla pleaded desperately.

"If it's meant to be, you'll find a way."

"Ugh," Kayla laughed. "This is not the right time for your riddles. I just want my man back."

Pat smiled knowingly and returned to the vegetables at hand.

The phone rang suddenly, echoing in the kitchen. The caller ID read 'Kensi', much to Kayla's surprise. Answering the phone, she barely got her greeting out before Kensi got to the point.

_"What the hell did you do to my partner?"_

Kayla opted for the oblivious response. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you do to Deeks?"

"We had a disagreement and went our separate ways," Kayla said diplomatically.

"A disagreement? You sucked his personality away!"

"How so?"

"He doesn't laugh, he doesn't talk back—he doesn't talk at all!"

"Wouldn't that be considered an improvement?" Kayla immediately regretted her words.

"In theory, yes, but he is seriously messed up!"

"He's the one who chose to leave."

"And you're the one who broke his heart."

Kayla sighed miserably. "I know I messed up. I miss him like crazy. I tried to apologize, but he won't talk to me."

"Well, he's not talking to me either, and as his partner, I shouldn't be talking to you."

She fiddled with the album as an idea began to form.

"I know this goes against everything you stand for, but I need your help."

"What for?"

"I have an idea."

* * *

"You look gorgeous," Jocelyn breathed, admiring her handiwork.

Jocelyn and Kayla stood in the bathroom of Stella and Jake's karaoke bar. Kayla stepped in front of the mirror and gasped. She was dressed in a black strapless bodycon dress that fit her like a glove. Her hair fell in natural-looking waves, framing her face effortlessly. Her naked shoulders prickled in the cool room. Matte red lips accentuated her cheekbones, leading to subtly smoky eyes. Red high heels added the final touch. The look was noticeable, but not overly bold, just enough to give her the confidence she needed.

"Okay, let's review," Jocelyn dictated. "Kensi's in charge of getting Deeks here, and I'm in charge of making sure you don't run away. The music's with the deejay, the stage is set. You okay?"

Butterflies were wreaking havoc on her stomach. Her face felt hot. She tugged at the dress, but Jocelyn slapped her hand away.

"I'll survive."

Kensi joined them in the bathroom. "He's here. I told him we were going to a karaoke bar...and he invited the rest of the team. Even Hetty insisted on coming."

"What?" Kayla shrieked. "Now I really can't go on!"

Jocelyn shook Kayla's shoulders. "Pull yourself together, woman! Do you want your man back or not?"

Kayla gulped, nodding.

"Then get your butt on that stage." Jocelyn smacked the aforementioned derrière.

Kayla took a deep breath as she exited the ladies' room. The walk to the stage was torturous. It felt as though every eye was on her. Stella smiled encouragingly as she passed, but Deeks didn't notice her until Sam pointed her out.

"Isn't that your baby mama?"

Deeks didn't look, tired of the games his coworkers kept playing on him.

The music started, a lively blues trumpet. The sound was a bit out of place in the bar, but he really wasn't paying attention.

Then came the vocals.

_Hold me closer, one more time_

_Say that you love me, like your last goodbye_

The voice was familiar; he dared to see if his friends were right. He couldn't believe his eyes. There stood Kayla, dolled up like the bombshell he knew she could be. He could tell she was nervous, but her voice remained strong.

_Please forgive me for my sins_

_Yes, I swam dirty waters, but you pushed me in_

Marty ducked his head, trying to figure out what to do. He was a mixture of surprise, anger, and love, all rolled into one.

_You know my heart more than I do_

_We were the greatest; me and you_

Kayla's frightened eyes found Marty's for a split second, but she lacked the courage to hold his gaze.

_But we had time against us_

_Miles between us_

_The heaves cried_

_I know I left you speechless_

_But now the sky is clear and it's blue_

_And I see my future in you_

Daring to look back, she found his face staring back at her. It was dim in the bar; she couldn't tell if he was scared or pleased.

_I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to love me again_

_I'll put my hands up, I'll do everything different _

_I'll be better to you_

A glimmer of understanding appeared in Marty's eyes as he realized that she wasn't just singing to him; she was apologizing.

_Let me stay here for just one more night_

_Build your world around me and pull me to the light_

_So I can tell you I was wrong_

_I was a child then, but now I'm willing to learn_

_Eye contact reengaged, Kayla projected to the rest of the bar._

_I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to love me again_

_I'll put my hands up, I'll do everything different_

_I'll be better to you_

Jocelyn watched from the sidelines, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Marty was entranced and Kayla was finally stepping out of her comfort zone for the right cause. The spotlight shone down on her, accentuating her body's every curve. The light caught her eyes, and they sparkled down at Deeks.

_I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to love me again_

_I'll put my hands up, I'll be somebody different_

_I'll be better to you…_

The song ended. As the music cut off, Kayla found herself stranded onstage. She had no idea what to do or where to go. How did this happen in the movies? Does the girl step down and apologize right then and there? Does the guy come up and gush that all is forgiven? The questions spun in her head. She was so confused that she stepped of the stage without a glance at Marty, and bolted out the door.

* * *

The night was pitch black, the stars clouded over. Kayla trusted the light of streetlamps to guide her back to the parking lot.

"Kayla!"

She turned around to see Marty sprinting up to her. No grand speech came to her, so she stood there silently.

"You can't do something like that and then walk away!"

Lacking the courage to respond, she searched his face. Was he pleased? Upset? Forgiving?

"You sang for me."

She nodded, blushing.

"You said you'd never sing for me."

"I said I _wouldn't_ sing for you because my voice is crap."

"Your voice is far from crap."

"I beg to differ."

"Shit, woman, I'm trying to pay you a compliment!" He waved his hands in frustration. "Why'd you do it now?"

"I was wrong," she whispered. His face softened, and she continued her little speech. "When you walked out that door, I felt so justified, but then Jocelyn stepped outside the box and called me on my bullshit. I've been going out of my mind trying to apologize. I wanted to prove to you that I don't take you for granted and, though I am still working on my controlling nature, I want to be vulnerable with you. You make me feel safe and, despite my efforts to the contrary, I fell hopelessly in love with you."

"Kayla," Deeks replied, his tone giving nothing away. "I loved you from the moment you socked me in the jaw."

Kayla laughed, her blush growing. "Which time?"

"I understand that you're a strong, independent woman, and I fell in love with the defenseless, vulnerable you from eight years ago. I love you because you've taken life's hard knocks and adapted. I know your insecure, shy side is behind your defenses. All I'm asking is for you to let me in."

"That's what I'm offering."

She lifted her head hesitantly. Marty stepped closer to study her face, and was overjoyed to find her eyes clear, unsure, but still trusting. Their breath mingled in the cool California night. Kayla didn't move. This was Deeks' choice, his decision. His hand made its way to her cheek.

"You're a selfish, overprotective idiot," he whispered.

"I know it." She owned her flaws.

Her words were all it took. Marty's lips claimed hers and they were lost in the passionate kiss of lovers parted. As they pulled away, Kayla smiled suggestively.

"You know, Pat's watching Andy for the whole night."

"Are you propositioning me?" Deeks teased back, caressing her cheek.

"Maybe…" her voice was husky as she stood on her tiptoes, her lips centimeters from his. "Are you accepting?"

He lifted her off the ground, kissing and spinning at the same time. "Oh, yes."


	26. Chapter 26

The sun rose, spreading its warmth across the bed where Marty and Kayla lay. Kayla found herself draped across his chest, wrapped up in the bed sheets. Her human pillow opened his eyes, kissing the top of her head.

"I have to tell you something."

She turned to face him, tucking the blanket against her chest. "I'm listening."

"I have to go undercover for a while."

Kayla swallowed hard as her mind went into overdrive. How much time had she wasted on her selfishness? These days could have been precious; instead she wrongly sent him away. Pushing her insecurities and guilt down, she returned his gaze. "When?"

"In four days."

"How long?"

"Hard to say; the cover's pretty deep." He held her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation.

"I'll be here when you get back," she replied firmly, touching his chest. "What do you want me to tell Andy?"

"He knows I go away sometimes for work; he'll understand. Be sure to let him know everything's okay between us."

Kayla closed her eyes, once again fighting the her guilt.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"You've been working you butt off to keep us together and all I do is kick you out over and over again. The truth is I'm scared. I'm scared of how much I care about you, and, no matter how many times you prove yourself faithful, my stupid subconscious won't let me trust you."

Kayla cursed her blabbering mouth as her cheeks turned five shades darker. "You've been a perfect saint to me, and I've done nothing but shut you down. I was high on power and unable to let my pride go. I thought that I could prove that I was strong without you." She closed her eyes, blinking back tears. "But I'm _not_ strong. You're the first person who ever cared enough to let me be afraid."

"You know," Marty smiled, "The whole needy thing has never been a turn on for me."

Kayla dropped her chin onto his chest. "Oh."

"Somehow, with you, I kind of like being needed." He lifted her chin so she could look him in the eye. "I'm not saying you're helpless; I just like it when you let me look out for you. It's sexy."

"Well, I think you're sexy."

He leaned forward to kiss her. "Get some sleep."

* * *

Deeks left as the sun rose, but not without leaving a note on his pillow. His shirt, shoes, and belt were strewn from the door to the bedroom, and he grinned, replaying their frenzied trek to the bed. It ached to leave her; he wanted nothing more than to laze in bed all day, reveling in the fact that she was his once more.

But no, they both had responsibilities. If he wanted to make these few days count, he needed to get to NCIS early. Maybe there would be a light day, where he could leave early. An early arrival certainly wouldn't hurt; he might even finish a few reports without the team bantering around him. So he snuck out, but not unnoticed.

Pat watched him go, sipping her morning coffee. His shuffle had all the earmarks of a two-day outfit, and she smiled softly.

"He spent the night," she informed her friend.

"Patricia, I told you to keep me apprised of the situation, not to give me a play-by-play. I haven't had my morning tea."

"Yes," Pat responded excitedly, "but you said he was leaving in a few days for a long assignment."

"And?"

"This is a crucial time for them. He just took her back; they need to spend as much time as possible together."

"Ms. O'Neal," her companion's voice was hard. "Your mission does not mention couples counseling or matchmaking. Besides, if they work out, your services will no longer be required. Are you really trying to work yourself out of a job?"

"I can stick around after my assignment is up."

"As who? You cannot be Patricia O'Neal forever, and you certainly cannot reveal your true identity."

Pat sighed. "Can you help me, at least?"

"I'll think about it," the voice responded enigmatically before hanging up.

* * *

The sound of voices woke Kayla from her slumber. Sighing contentedly, she stretched her whold body. Muscles ached, the good kind of hurt, reminding her of the previous night's activities. Her lips tingled as she smiled; they were still swollen from Marty's assault on them.

Her hand brushed a piece of paper, and she forced herself to focus on the handwriting.

_Kaye,_

_If all our arguments end like last night, you should definitely kick me out more often._

_I went in to work early so we can spend more time together tonight. I'll see you this afternoon._

_Marty_

A crash echoed in the apartment, drawing her back to reality. Slipping on a robe, she exited her bedroom.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Pat winked knowingly. "Have a good time last night?"

Kayla blushed, gathering her clothes off the kitchen floor. "Shut up."

_Well_," Pat continued, "Andy's almost ready for school."

As if on cue, Andy's yell came from the bedroom. "I can't find my Chucks!"

"And that's my cue," Kayla smiled. "Thanks for everything."

Pat pulled Kayla aside. "Honey, you know I think of you as a daughter, right?"

"Of course; you're the closest thing to a mother for me." Kayla hugged her landlady. "I wouldn't be here without you."

Kissing Kayla's cheek, Pat closed the door behind her.

"Okay, kid," Kayla called, "let's find those shoes!"

Andy padded up to her, stocking feet scuffing on the ground. "Was dad here last night?"

"What?" Kayla's voice squeaked. "Why do you think that?"

"That." He pointed underneath the table where Marty's t-shirt lay crumpled on the ground.

"You don't miss much, do you," she smiled admiringly, moving to look for his shoes. "You get that from your dad."

"So was he here?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him again?"

"I never stopped liking him," Kayla continued to avoid the word 'love'. "I was just mad at him. I was wrong."

"If you told me to go away when you're mad at me, I'd run away."

"Kid, I love you too much to be mad at you. I am allowed to be disappointed, upset, and frustrated, but _never_ angry." Unearthing the shoes, she smiled at him. "Face it, you're stuck with me for life."

"Love you too, mom."

* * *

The morning was crisp and sunny; Kayla was already in such a good mood that the weather didn't really matter. She had Andy's hand in hers, Marty back in her life, and nothing could ruin it. All she had to do was make it through the day, and Marty would be there.

"Has Marty talked to you about deploying?"

They always referred to Marty's undercover work as deployments. That way, if Andy ever let slip, it sounded like Deeks was in another country as opposed to another county.

"He said he was going soon." He looked up at his mother. "How soon?"

"Three days."

Andy blinked. "That's not very long. Will he come to Display Day?"

A smile came to Kayla's lips, imagining Deeks sitting in those little elementary school desks while the kids gave their presentations. "I'll have to ask him."

He squeezed her hand. "I hope he comes."

"Sweetie?" She started. There was a burning question she just had to ask. "Why weren't you mad at your dad when he missed your party?"

He didn't hesitate. "Because he promised to always be there for me."

It was such a simple answer. The faith of such a child floored her. Andy looked up at her, blue orbs wide with trust. "Are you okay?"

"Andy, honey, I don't know what I did to deserve you. I don't know where you got it from, but I wish I had your kind of trust."

"Don't you trust Dad?"

Kayla paused. "I'm working on it," she answered honestly. "I'm glad you're here to remind me who to trust."

The deeper meaning went over the child's head, and he rolled his eyes. "You know who you shouldn't trust? Dean Jacobs."

Andy went on to tell Kayla the tale of the bully's indiscretions, but Kayla wasn't exactly listening. Once again, her thoughts revolved around his father and how to make the next three days count.

* * *

"Mr. Deeks, what are you doing here at this early hour?"

Marty had been so engrossed in paperwork that he hadn't noticed the pint-sized director standing beside him. Her eyes were curious beneath her raised eyebrows, her lips pursed in wait for a response.

Hetty was a riddle wrapped in an enigma. Years in the spy game taught her that the strategic release of information garnered better results than the whole truth. True, this left her team frustrated with her from time to time, but her impeccable track record made it easier to forgive, trust, and even occasionally love the eccentric little woman.

"Just researching the case."

"And this could not wait for normal business hours with Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones to help you?"

Deeks was loathe to tell her his true reason for such an early arrival. The team rarely (for some, never) divulged personal or family details. Hetty of course, seemed to know everything and more about each member of her team, but that didn't stop the agents from trying to keep their personal lives private.

"Kayla and I are going through a rough patch; I want to make sure everything's okay before I go undercover."

"So you want to leave early?" It was less of a question and more of a statement of deduction.

Deeks only nodded.

Hetty mulled over her options. "And I assume you want this schedule for the next two days as well?"

He nodded again.

"Go home, Mr. Deeks," she ordered.

"Pardon?" He asked, surprised by her response.

A smile stretched across her ancient face. "Go home. I will see you at six o'clock sharp on Thursday."

He could barely believe his ears. It was all he could do to resist kissing the tiny agent. "Thank you."

A glance a his phone told him it was 9:00. If he gathered his things fast enough, he might be able to slip out before the team arrived.

Despite her sore muscles, Kayla forced herself to complete her daily jog. She took it light; she had no desire to sweat after just showering, but her chest still heaved as she crested the apartment stairs…sweating.

"Hello," Deeks greeted her, smiling smugly. His eyes burst with excitement, and Kayla noticed a large duffel slung over his shoulder.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she replied breathlessly, reaching up to give him a sweaty kiss. She eyed the green bag before entering the apartment. "What's that?"

He followed her, dropping the bag on the ground. "Trust lessons."

"Deeks..." she warned.

"Totally harmless!" He defended. "Surf lessons."

"Surf?" Kayla balked, toweling off. "No. No, no. Hell, no."

"Why?"

"Because I have as much balance as a drunken sloth."

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it is."

"Come on," he pleaded. "When was the last time you did something new and daring?"

Kayla rocked back on her heels and folded her arms. "I sang in front of a large group of people…last night."

He shrugged. "Touché."

She grinned over her shoulder, prepping the water for her second shower of the day. "Want to join me?"

The offer was most inviting, of course. He shook his head to focus. "Don't change the subject. Will you let me teach you how to surf?"

Kayla stripped off her shirt, but did not respond.

"Do you trust me?" he asked. The tone was playful, but his eyes searched her face for the truth.

Her eyes went wide as she realized the choice she had to make. It was a simple question, but it was her first decision on the road to securing him. Trust really was difficult.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. "Yes."

"What?"

"I trust you."

"Good," he cheered, clapping his hands. "Get changed, I'll make lunch."

"Can I shower first?"

"You'll just be getting wet."

"Yes, but I'm not a huge fan of sweat and sand."

"Fine," he sighed, "but just for that, you're wearing a bikini."


	27. Chapter 27

"Happy?"

Marty over at her from his surfboard. Kayla stood, hands on her hips, bare midriff gleaming in the morning sun, glaring at Deeks. She looked positively glorious.

"Oh, absolutely."

"Well, at least I look the part," she sighed, gesturing at her sturdy halter top and board shorts. No one would ever guess she'd never surfed before.

_All the more reason _not_ to surf,_ she reasoned.

"Okay," he announced, taking her hands, "have you ever been on a skateboard?"

"Once. I broke my wrist." She shifted her weight onto one hip." Pretty sure that's the only trip to the E.R. with a true story."

Deeks stepped backwards, leading her onto the board. Without breaking eye contact, he squared her shoulders.

"Feet shoulder width apart," he instructed. "Knees bent."

He could feel the tension in her shoulders as she followed his instructions. "Relax!"

She went jelly-legged. He caught her as she sagged against him, laughing.

"It helps if you at least cooperate," he sighed good-naturedly.

"I am cooperating! You said 'relax' and I did!"

"Fine," he physically picked her up, setting her on the board again. "Stand here—" he planted her feet—"and lean against me."

Kayla twitched as he pulled her flush against him. His fingers brushed her waist and she wiggled her butt against him mischievously.

"Like this?" Her smile was positively devilish.

Clearing his throat, he set her straight. "Like _this_."

Gently, he stretched her arms out in either direction, pointing to each end of the board. It was so familiar, his tutelage, so comforting. He felt it too; stroking her hand.

"Now, bend your knees."

He bent with her, supporting her weight and training her at the same time. Their hips began to sway with the imaginary tide. The water crashed on the shore only a few yards away and she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his sun-warmed skin against hers. It felt more intimate than any caress.

"Good," he whispered in her ear, stepping back slowly.

She felt his absence immediately, but managed to maintain her balance, eyes still closed. A small smile played on her lips.

"That's right," he encouraged, placing his foot on the board to rock it on the sand.

She yelped, flailing her arms, but corrected quickly. He depressed another section of the board, and she repeated her actions.

"Perfect!" he shouted, jarring her concentration. She pitched forward into the sand.

"You did that on purpose!" she shrieked, tossing sand in his direction.

On her feet in a flash, she tackled him into the surf. They rolled around, effectively coating themselves in sea foam and sand. Kayla rubbed saltwater out of her eyes and kissed him.

"I see what you meant about no balance," he laughed, his whole chest rumbling.

She slapped his shoulder playfully. Any onlookers might assume they were two adolescents discovering each other for the first time. So carefree, so innocent.

He grasped her waist, sitting up abruptly. "I'd say you're ready to get into the water."

"I'd say I'm already _in_ the water."

Still, minutes later, Kayla found herself flat against Marty's spare surfboard. The cool seawater, about waist deep, lapped against her skin as she paddled across the waves.

"Okay!" he called to her. "So you don't need to stand up—not yet! Just practice riding the waves. Arch you back—" he illustrated "—and bend your elbows like chicken wings."

"You just wanted a good look at my boobs," she yelled back.

"I'm not going to lie; it's a great view," he laughed. "Okay, here comes a good one!"

Deek whipped his board around, paddling with the wave. It was small, but the water foamed as it crested. He pushed his chest up, and Kayla laughed at the visual.

"Your turn!"

"Okay," she replied tentatively. The water shifted beneath her. Awkwardly, Kayla tried to turn her board. The wave hit her sideways and she toppled.

Surfacing, she sputtered, pulling the board back to her. Marty's head was thrown back in laughter.

"Shut up," she growled.

"Come on," he coaxed as she attempted to flip back onto the board. "Try again."

The board turned faster this time as the wave approached. Her movements were jerky, but she managed to arch her back, riding the wave until it died.

She threw her arms into the air. "Success!" The board bobbed beneath her thighs and she hugged the lifeline once more.

Throwing his head back, Deeks laughed. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she growled, sitting up once more. "Better if you wipe that smirk off your face."

"Oh, babe, you know that will _never _happen."

They spent the better part of the next two hours riding the waves without standing before Deeks looked over at her mischievously.

"I need you to get up to go up to that wave and stand up."

"On this piece of floating foam?"

"Yes," he replied confidently. "Watch!"

Kayla watched, enthralled, as he paddled forward, slid his legs forward, and lithely stood on the board. A wave materialized in front of him and he rode it to its end, falling into the ocean. He surfaced, grinning widely.

"Oh, that is amazing; you've got to try!"

"Are you sure?" she hesitated.

Deeks flipped himself onto his board once more. "Yes!"

A wave built a little ways away, she paddled up to it. Mimicking his actions, she crouched on the surfboard. It rocked, and she flattened again.

"Nope, I'm good!"

"Come on, Kaye," he swam up beside her. "Try again."

Peeling her terrified fingers from the waxed foam, she crouched once more. The board shook, but she held firm.

"Good, now wait." He instructed. "NOW!"

There was no time to think, the wave was upon her. She stood, letting the current slide her parallel to the shore, far away. It was only a few feet, but for those few seconds adrenaline coursed through her veins and she tingled all over. Almost instantly, it was over, and the water engulfed her.

It took a second for her to regain her senses. The water was a shock of cold, but she looked up to see the sun streaking through the blue. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The saltwater smarted in her eyes as her body came back to life. Breaking the surface, she took a gulp of glorious air. Deeks was above her, grin on his gorgeous face.

"So?" he asked.

Treading water, she grasped the edge of his board. "Absolutely fantastic! Can I go again?"


	28. Chapter 28

In an effort to avoid more teasing from Deeks about her clean hair OCD, Kayla opted to simply rinse the sand and saltwater in her hair. A quick blast with a blow dryer left her hair voluminous and texturized—and thinking she might surf more often if her hair ended up looking like this. The mystery of Marty's magical hair was finally revealed. Smiling with glee at the mirror, she added a touch of eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstain.

Deeks hadn't been expecting to visit Andy's school let alone meet with his teacher. He was used to showing up in all situations in his usual weathered jeans and plaid button-up, from the ghetto to Rodeo Drive, but suddenly he wasn't sure how he should look.

He tugged at his sleeves. "Is this okay?"

They were sitting on a bench outside the classroom. Deeks felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if he had returned to school only to be sent to the principal's office.

"Honey, you look fine," she affirmed. "It's just a parent-teacher meeting."

"Do I look…" he trailed off.

"Deeks, you look like a semi-respectable parent. Flash that badge and the rest of the world will believe you."

"Shut up."

The teacher popped his head out of the classroom. "Kayla Townsend?"

Deeks adjusted his shirt once more before standing beside Kayla. It was clear the teacher was surprised to see two parents instead of one. Marty, likewise, was just as shocked to see just how good-looking the teacher was. Of course, he would never admit it; no man would ever admit another was attractive. Instead, he chose to glare.

"Hi, Tom," Kayla shook his hand. "This is Andy's father, Marty Deeks."

"Tom," Deeks grunted.

"Nice to meet you," he smiled. Deeks noted his perfect teeth begrudgingly. "Andy's a great kid."

Marty only grunted again. Kayla glanced at him sideways, nudging him.

It was true, Tom was attractive. Dark, lush hair was perfectly coiffed on top of his head. His jaw was so sharp, it should be illegal, and his eyes—a piercing blue—were only accentuated by the thin, silver-framed glasses perched on his nose. "I'd like to show you some of Andy's work," Tom said, pulling out a small portfolio. "He's one of my best artists."

Spreading a stack of papers in front of the parents, he let them peruse the drawings and paintings. Nearly all of the illustrations were still life.

"I asked the kids to draw what they wanted for Christmas. Andy drew this."

He handed them a lovingly detailed drawing of an art kit. Kayla smiled.

"He got it, too. Even the easel."

Tom turned to Deeks. "Can I ask when you came into his life?"

Marty wasn't feeling talkative, but Kayla spoke for him. "About New Years," she answered.

"That explains a lot," Tom grinned, a twinkle in his ridiculously blue eyes. Unearthing a new handful of pages, he picked up a few. "These were done after Christmas break."

The change was incredible. The still life drawings were good, but these were full of life. Andy didn't draw realistically; there was a definite cartoon vibe, but he still managed to capture the subjects far beyond the skill of most eight-year-olds. There were landscapes-mostly the beach-and portraits. Bits and pieces of eyes and noses, at first, as if he was studying his subject closely, then full faces, bodies, and motion. Even Deeks looked on with pride.

"You brought him to life, Mr. Deeks," Tom whispered gently. "Don't get me wrong," he spoke normally, "Kayla has done a great job with Andy, but your presence has rounded out his world."

Marty wanted to hate him, but Tom was right. Kayla squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks; this means a lot."

"Still," the teacher continued, "he has issues with bullies. Andy's a good kid-too good. He can't stand to see anyone hurt."

"He gets than from his dad," Kayla replied, "Marty's a cop."

"Ah, now it makes sense. The problem is, he keeps on getting in fights. If someone takes another student's food, he doesn't stand down until the bully gives it back."

"What's wrong with that?" Deeks spoke up.

"The bullies may swing first, but Andy swings back. He needs to learn how to choose his battles. True, the lunch monitors don't catch everything, and no one likes a tattle tale, but he can't fight all the time."

"I understand," Kayla replied respectfully.

"Off the record," Tom continued, "I think his sense of justice is great. He's kind of the little guys' hero. But as his teacher, I can't condone his activities."

"Got it." Kayla nodded. "We'll work on it."

"Other than that," Tom clapped his hands in finality, "keep up the good work!"

* * *

Andy sat on the bench outside the door, scuffing his tennis shoes on the hardwood floor. The door opened, and his parents appeared. Kayla hugged Tom.

"Thanks so much for everything!" She exclaimed.

Looking sheepishly up at his parents, he asked the dreaded question. "Am I in trouble?"

Kayla squatted down next to him. "Nope. You did great!"

Andy smiled widely, taking each of their hands. "Good."

"I did get to see some of your illustrations," Deeks grinned.

His eyebrows raised tentatively. "What'd you think?"

"I think...they were fantastic!"

Andy skipped ahead on the walk home, leaving Kayla and Deeks with a little privacy.

"What was with you back there?" Kayla teased. "I've never seen you so grumpy."

"Well, how was I supposed to act with you fawning over him?"

Kayla laughed aloud. "Fawning? Hardly."

"_Thanks, this means a lot?_ Then you squeeze his muscly shoulder?"

"Yes! We're friends!"

"How did I not know about this?"

Kayla frowned. "We went out for coffee twice. He gave me tips on teaching when I was starting up the kitchen!"

"So it was strictly business?"

"Strictly business," she confirmed.

"So, nothing…unbusinesslike…happened?"

"No."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Why not?"

"Seriously?" She tweaked an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, he was smoking hot!"

"He's also gay."

Marty's eyes opened wide as it dawned on him. "Gay?"

"_Gay." _She thrust her hands into the air for emphasis. "Why? You looking to hook up?"

"Hell, no."

Kayla nudged him, grinning from ear to ear. "Are you jealous?"

"Not anymore."

"You're cute when you're jealous."

"Why don't I see you get jealous?"

"How would you feel if I went all crazy on you? I mean, after all, you spend every day with Kensi."

"So, why aren't you jealous?"

"Psh! My boobs are bigger." Kayla scoffed, patting her chest appreciatively before glaring at him. "But if you sleep with her, I will rip your balls off and castrate you with my bare hands."

Deeks knew better than to cross her when she took on that tone of voice. "Point taken."


	29. Chapter 29

The night passed comfortably. Kayla had forgotten how natural Marty's presence felt. Simple things, like cleaning up dinner and watching TV, were just as familiar as if he had been living with them for years. New Years' Day felt ages ago; the five months had passed in a blur and yet seemed to last a lifetime. Kayla went to sleep with a smile on her face and Marty's arms around her waist.

Wet kisses woke Kayla from the grasp of sleep. She smiled and rolled over, opening her eyes, but instead of being met with Marty's blues, she stared directly into the large brown eyes of Monty the mutt.

"Ack!" she gagged, jerking away.

The dog leapt onto the bed fully, licking her face. In the doorway, Marty and Andy dissolved in laughter.

"What the hell?" she sputtered as she wiped dog slobber off her face.

"Wakey, wakey!" Andy sang, jumping on her bed.

Deeks knelt beside the bed, wiping the dog slobber off her face before kissing her forehead. "Morning."

"Morning," she responded, knitting her eyebrows. "What's going on?"

He pushed her hair back from her face. "Well, the sun is coming out, it's a beautiful day, and the surf is up!"

"Ugh," she grunted. "Surf? It's too early!"

"It's the best time!"

Groaning, she rolled over. "No."

"I'm not taking no for an answer!" he exclaimed, lifting her entire body off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

"Where are you taking me?" she shrieked.

"Don't you need to take another obsessive shower?"

"No!" she wriggled free indignantly. "I'm fine."

"Then it's settled! I've already made breakfast; we leave in ten minutes."

Andy was already raring to go. An empty cereal bowl marked her son's sloppily eaten breakfast; Deeks passed her a fresh bowl of Wheaties and poured milk with his free hand cheerily.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Why did you have to be a morning person?"

"Only when the surf is good, babe," he winked. "Now eat up! We're going to miss it!"

Kayla glanced blearily around the kitchen. "Hold on a second," she said slowly. "When did Andy get all that gear?"

She was referring to Andy's rash guard and swim trunks. Andy did, of course, have swim shorts, but none nearly that nice, and he certainly did not have a rash guard.

"For surfing!" Andy responded as if nothing was wrong.

She whirled on Deeks. "You've been teaching him to surf?"

"What?" His tone was light, but he was afraid. "I taught you to surf."

"Yes, but…" she wasn't quite sure how to continue the argument anyway, so she just gave up. "Fine. What's he doing dressed for the surf? He can't go to school like that."

"Oh, he's not going to school." Marty's eyes twinkled mischievously.

The full meaning of the scenario suddenly revealed itself. "Oh, _hell_, no."

"What?" he smiled innocently. "You did say we should spend more time together."

"I wasn't suggesting truancy!"

"Just tell them there was a family emergency! I'm a cop; everyone believes me. It'll be fun!"

Andy skipped in the background, hands folded in a silent plea. Kayla ran her fingers through her hair, sighing exasperatedly.

"_Fine._ Truancy it is."

* * *

Monty bolted for the dunes the moment they opened the doors to the beach; Andy laughed and ran after the mutt. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, casting purple and orange streaks across the sky. Kayla sighed, breathing in the morning air.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Marty grinned at her.

"What? Crawling out of the car at some ungodly hour?"

"Something like that." He unhooked the surfboards, handing one to Kayla and tucking one under his arm.

"Pretty sure last time wasn't nearly as scenic."

Deeks looked her over softly. "Depends on your definition of scenery."

Kayla blushed at the inference and smacked his rear with the board.

* * *

Marty was right; the surf was good. It took a total of two minutes for Andy and Deeks to take to the water; Kayla chose to sip coffee and pet Monty in an attempt to wake up. The friendly competition between father and son was entertaining to watch. Andy was a natural. Kayla had no idea how long he had been training, but the eight-year-old's form was identical to his father's. They took turns all morning. Deeks only had one spare board, so they rotated. Whoever remained on the beach kept Monty company.

The phone rang; Kayla answered it, panting and laughing.

"Hello?"

"Did I interrupt something?" Jocelyn smirked.

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" Kayla chided, "I was running!"

"I haven't talked to you since you ran out on me at the bar! What happened?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you've been in bed since then."

"You obviously don't have a kid to raise. Trust me, you can't raise a kid from the bedroom. It scars them."

Jocelyn laughed aloud. "Okay, so you aren't in bed."

"Nope! I'm at the beach with Marty and Andy."

"You let your kid out of school?" she was scandalized.

"Yes, but for good reason! Deeks is 'deploying' tomorrow."

"Oh, I heard about that!"

Kayla cut her off. "Don't tell me about it! The less I know, the less I can worry."

"Fair enough," Jocelyn sighed. "I'll keep any eye out if I can."

"Honey, I'd love to stay and chat, but these are my last few hours as a family…"

"I understand, sweetie."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

* * *

While Kayla was on the phone, Marty took advantage of the moment to speak to Andy. They were walking side by side down the dunes, Monty dancing between their legs.

"Hey, Sport, can I talk to you about something?"

Andy tossed the ball for the dog. "Is this about your meeting with Mr. Tom?"

Deeks nodded. "Yeah. Mr. Tom said you were having problems with other kids at school."

"I'm not the one having trouble," Andy replied, his chin jutting out defensively.

"Okay," Marty tread lightly. He was used to interrogating victims and suspects, but it felt different talking to his own son. "So you don't get in fights at school."

Andy shifted his eyes downward. "I don't start them."

"Who does?"

"Dean Jacobs. He's a bully."

"How do these fights start?"

"Well, Dean likes to take lunch money or snacks. He likes to have Jacob and Kyle hold the littler kids while he hits them."

"Does he ever hit you?"

"Only when I challenge him." Andy smiled proudly. "He knows better."

"I bet he does," Deeks grinned back. "Look, Mr. Tom is getting worried. I can't let you get into fights in school."

Andy looked desperate. "But he starts them!"

Deeks knelt in the sand, looking Andy in the eye. "You need to understand. I hate bullies just as much as you. I was bullied too. I hate that you have to deal with this at such a young age, but you're going to have to choose your battles."

"I won't be a tattle-tale."

"I'm not asking you to be. You'll learn when to speak up, when to keep silent, and when to intervene. I do it every day as a cop."

"What if they choose them for me? What if they hit me?"

"Then you defend yourself."

"How? I'm not going to run away."

"I'm not asking you to run away."

Andy threw his hands up in frustration. "What _do_ you want me to do?"

Deeks sat back on his heels. "How does Dean usually come at you?"

The kid pondered his answer before responding. "He punches my stomach, like this." He illustrated, swinging softly at Marty's stomach.

Stepping back, Deeks squared Andy's shoulders and mimicked the punch. "Like this?"

"Yes," Andy nodded. "Then Kyle holds me from behind."

Deeks wrapped his arms around Andy. "Like this?"

"Yes, and I can't get free."

"What would you say if I told you that you could get free?"

Andy shrugged skeptically. "How?"

"Raise your hands back to back," he illustrated, "then push down with your hands and back with your hips."

Andy didn't move.

"Just try it!" Deeks coaxed.

"You're too big!"

"I may be bigger than you," Marty agreed, "but you'd be surprised what someone your size can do. Now give it a shot."

Steeling himself, the kid grunted, thrusting his hands one way and his hips another. To his utter surprise, he fell to the ground, free.

"Good!" Deeks exclaimed. "Again!"

* * *

They practiced until Andy was so tired, he couldn't get back up. Instead, they lay on the sand, basking in the sun's warmth.

"Do you know how I met your mom?"

"At the police academy, right?"

"Right," Deeks confirmed, "but that's not the whole story. You see, your mom couldn't throw a punch to save her life. The instructor was so tired of her that he asked me to teach your mom."

"Really? I thought Mom always knew how to fight."

"How so?"

The kid tucked his hands behind his head. "One time, some guy tried to steal her purse. He just snagged it and took off running. I've seen other people have their stuff stolen. They scream or point, but not Mom. She took off after the guy running. When she caught him, she threw him to the ground, wrestled the purse free, and stared him down, fist raised, until he ran away."

Deeks chuckled. He could picture Kayla doing that very thing. "Yeah, well, your mom wasn't always that tough. She was bullied, too."

"By Alan?" Andy guessed.

"Yeah. She was too scared to fight back."

Andy remembered his mom's pale face when Alan appeared at their door unannounced. He recalled the sound of fist against belly and the smack of palm against face and he winced. "She's not afraid anymore. She fought back when he came over."

"That's right, but only because she had no choice. She didn't want to hurt him. Sometimes, it is okay to fight back. Just be careful not to be the bully yourself."

Andy nodded solemnly. "I understand."

* * *

The moment the threesome walked through the apartment door at the end of the day, a tense calm spread over the entire area. It was as if it hit them: this was the last night before he would leave. Andy chattered on, impervious to the tension, and Deeks sat down to play video games with him.

Kayla went to work in the kitchen. Her mother had instilled strong maternal instincts in her child, and food was the best comfort. Besides, the work could keep her mind off of Marty's departure. If there was one place she had control, it was the kitchen. She had no idea what the assignment was, but she'd be damned if he didn't go out with a good meal.

Steak. Pan-seared and flaming.

Baked potatoes, loaded down with sour cream and bacon.

And, to top it off, deep, dark chocolate cake.

A good, manly meal.

But as she was distracted as she prepped the ingredients for the cake, distracted as she prepped the potatoes, and distracted as she prepped the steak. The cake went into the oven along with the potatoes, and she dropped the steak into the pan. A splash of bourbon and a lit match, and the steak caught fire.

_Clang!_

"_SHIT!"_ she cursed, stomping the flames out, and, in turn, flattening the steak.

"Mom said a bad word!" Andy shrieked unhelpfully.

Deeks rushed to her side. "What happened?"

"Oh, I only set the kitchen on fire." She did her best to shrug it off. "It's okay; I can go without."

Laughing at her, Marty kissed her forehead. "Yell if you need me."

"I always need you," Kayla teased, leaning into his kiss, but looked away, sniffing at the air.

"What?" he asked.

"Something's burning."

"Yes," he confirmed, "the steak."

"No, this isn't the steak. It smells like…"

_Chocolate cake._

Cursing under her breath, she threw the oven open and pulled out the overflowing chocolate cake. Of course, the potatoes were underneath, now ruined by the overly risen batter. She crumbled to the ground in defeat, head in her hands.

"Kayla?" Deeks didn't really know what to do.

There were no tears, but she could barely speak. "It's ruined!"

The solution was simple. "We'll just order Chinese!"

"But I wanted it to be perfect!"

He laughed. He actually laughed. Her head shot up, eyes ready to shoot daggers.

"Kaye," he touched her shoulder. "It's okay!"

"No, it's not!"

He sat back on his heels and folded his arms. "Fine. It's not okay. Your perfect dinner is the most important thing to me the night before I leave you behind for who knows how long."

To his relief, Kayla cracked a smile. "That does sound silly, doesn't it?"

"I would be happy to eat Chinese food and watch _Shrek_!"

"I know," she blushed. "I just wanted it to be my gift to you before you left."

With a mischievous grin, he lifted her to her feet. "You can give me your _gift_ later tonight."

She gasped as he squeezed her butt…and smacked him right back.

* * *

After the dinner debacle, they did exactly as Deeks suggested. He made his goodbyes at bedtime as Andy refused to release his hug. They turned the TV back on, waiting for Andy to go to sleep. Though they leaned on each other, neither relaxed, in anticipation of what was to come.

One last check confirmed the child was asleep…the clothes came off. Kayla really did want to give him as good a going away present as she could. When they collapsed, glistening and panting, they laughed together.

As the energy faded, they huddled close, forehead to forehead and whispering. She would make him laugh, he would poke her stomach. He would whisper in her ear, she would tuck her head into his chest and blush.

"Are you scared?" She whispered.

"It's my job not to be."

"No," she contradicted, "it's your job to be _brave_."

Marty knitted his eyebrows together in confusion.

"It's my job to be brave, for Andy, but we both know I'm still a scared little girl underneath it all."

Caressing her cheek, Deeks smiled lovingly. "Not as scared as you once were."

"You're right," she sighed happily, nestling her back against his chest. "So are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Scared."

"I'm only scared of leaving you behind."

Kayla squeezed his hand as it encircled her waist. "I promise you, all you have to do is walk through that door, and I'm yours for the taking."

Kissing her temple, Marty pulled her closer. "Good," he growled, "because the first thing I do after I walk through that door is take you."

She gasped at his audacity and elbowed him in the ribs. "The first thing you're going to do is kiss me. Then you're going to hug your son. Then we're going to pretend to be responsible adults until the child is asleep."

"That sounds way less exciting. As if I'd ever given any allusions of responsibility."

Kayla laughed. He felt it against his chest. Her body was warm and soft; the skin of her neck begged to be kissed just like he had only minutes ago. Her hair, usually silken and smooth, was thoroughly ravaged and tangled, thanks to his fingers' battle in the honey-colored tresses. He traced the curve of her waist absentmindedly.

"What are you thinking?" She whispered.

"I don't want to fall asleep."

Ever the mother, Kayla chided, "Honey, you need to rest for tomorrow."

He turned her to face him once more. "I don't want to rest. If I close my eyes, that's one less moment with you. I want to memorize you, so I can think of you when I'm gone." He blushed lightly. "I know it sounds silly."

In a way, he was right. Five months ago, she would have laughed in his face for saying something so unabashedly romantic. But here, now, in his arms, it made perfect sense.

"Close your eyes," she ordered.

He obeyed reluctantly. Slowly, she raked one hand through his hair as he groaned in response. Cupping his cheek, she brushed his parted lips with her own. She claimed his mouth with heightening passion-then, all too soon, broke away.

"Now," she proclaimed in the barest of whispers, "whenever you close your eyes, think of this."

His breathing was ragged. His eyes pierced her with want. Unable to find the words to thank her, he kissed her instead. There was no way to convey everything he felt. All he knew was everything he could ever want was right here, in his arms.

So he showed her.

* * *

Despite Kayla's efforts to make breakfast special, they passed the meal in somber silence. Deeks watched the clock from the corner of his eye over his plate of eggs benedict. As he was leaving so early, the elected to let Andy sleep. Kayla was beginning to regret the decision to let Andy sleep. His cheerful chatter would be welcome right now. Anything would be more welcome than the heavy air in the room.

It wasn't dread. Both had long since resigned to the fact that no amount of complaining or prayer would keep Deeks home. That would be silly. Deeks had a job to do, simple as that. The sooner he left, the sooner he would return.

Marty watched her as she moved about the kitchen. She was dressed solely in his plaid button up, her shape silhouetted by the sunlight sifting through the thin fabric. But he forced himself to keep his hands at his side. He was about to go a minimum of two months (unless the mark was a total idiot), and he doubted that the cold turkey method would go too well. Instead, he resisted her curves.

He sighed and stood. "It's that time."

All she could do was look up at him numbly. He offered her an impassionate kiss on the lips and walked out the door.

_Just like that._

Kayla stared at the hunk of wood long after he shut it. It was such a stark contrast to the previous night. They had spent it making love and whispering promises. But he was gone.

Just like that.

He'd be back.

If his cover wasn't blown.

If he didn't take a bullet to the head-or anywhere else for that matter.

If he could catch the guy, or bring down the terrorist cell, or whatever it was he'd be doing.

He'd be back.

Yet Kayla couldn't hold back a sob. She was being melodramatic, obviously. She wasn't the only woman whose boyfriend or husband was required to risk their lives every day. But it was the first one. The first time they'd truly be separated. This wasn't of her own doing. She hadn't kicked him out the door and said she never wanted to see him again. She did want to see him again, and that's why it hurt.

Rousing herself, she cleared the table. Yes, chores would clear her head. Then she would take Andy to school and go for a long run. She would run until her legs fell off, if she had to. Maybe a trip to the gun range, followed by-

The door flung open, revealing Marty.

"Forget something?" She quipped, trying to cover the fact she had been crying.

He was across the room in two strides, easily gathering her into his arms. Lifting her off the ground, his lips crashed onto hers. She felt her lips swell and bruise in response to his ministrations. It was unlike any other kiss she had ever experienced: desperate, passionate, and needy.

With a final tug on her lip, he broke away. "Yes," he gasped raggedly. "I forgot to tell you I love you."

Somehow, she had ended up sitting on the counter. Using the height advantage, she kissed him, pressing her lips down on his. The angle allowed her to take more control of the kiss before she released him.

"I love you, too."

Deeks shifted between her legs, struggling to step away. One last kiss on her lips—he forced himself to be quick—and he whirled on his heel. All too soon, he was gone, leaving her with swollen lips and an acute sense of loss.


	30. Chapter 30

THREEish MONTHS LATER

"Jocelyn, what's going on?"

Kayla was concerned for her friend. During Marty's extended absence, Jocelyn had been at the house frequently, but tonight she called to cancel.

"It's about your dad, Kaye," Jocelyn explained. "He's under investigation."

"What?" Kayla plopped down on the sofa in shock.

There was no reason to be particularly surprised. Her father _was_ one of the most incompetent and least respected sheriffs in the state of California, but he came from a long line of blue bloods, and that counted for something.

"Why?" she finally breathed out.

"Something about failure to perform due process and accepting bribes, among other things."

"Joce, please tell me _statutory rape_ isn't one of those things."

"Of course not!" Jocelyn sounded appalled at the idea. "You made me promise not to say anything, though I still don't understand why."

"I don't want to be responsible for his downfall. We're family. Just because he did those things to me, it doesn't give me the right to throw him under the bus."

"Honey, that's exactly what it means!" Jocelyn insisted. "That's what justice is!"

"Well, it seems like he's dug his own grave," Kayla pointed out. "He's more than welcome to go down for those issues. For myself, I refuse to expose Andy to any of that nastiness."

Jocelyn sighed frustratedly. "I will _never_ understand your reasoning behind this."

"You don't have to. You just have to keep your mouth shut like a good friend."

"Don't worry about me, sweetie, I've got it covered."

"Good."

"Look, I need to go. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

The past three months had plodded by slowly. Summer ended, leaves faded, and school started again. Though the days fell back into an easy routine, Marty's absence was marked daily. Andy wrote letters before bed, and Kayla balanced her new chocolate cravings with rigorous morning runs.

Running her hands through her hair, Kayla surveyed the apartment. Andy sat at the table doing homework, and Kayla had been doodling meal plans—or trying, at least. The words turned to doodles; swirls, cubes, and letters graced the notepad. Monty snored, curled up at her feet. With a sigh, she dropped her pen.

"Are you bored? I'm bored."

Andy looked up. "Mom, you just miss dad."

Pouting, Kayla sighed, "I guess. Want to watch a movie?"

"What about homework?"

"I'm bored!"

"Mom, am I the only adult here?" Andy exhibited his uncanny maturity

"Fine! Homework in front of a movie!" She helped Andy gather his books.

_Knock, knock!_

Kayla froze. Visitors were rarely good in her life, especially at eight in the evening.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Mom, get the door!" Andy whispered.

Kayla snapped to, tip toeing to the door. She closed the chain, then opened the door a couple of inches.

"Holy crap, Marty!" she screamed, slamming the door and unlocking the chain. Within seconds, she was in his arms.

Together, they stumbled across the threshold, only to have Andy join the embrace.

"Dad's home!"

Monty, Kayla's charge while Deeks was away, danced around and nuzzled Marty's legs as if the mutt was part feline.

Kayla stepped back from her lips' attack on Marty's face to take him in.

"Holy crap, Marty!"

His face was scraped up, his left hand bandaged. Two butterfly bandages held his eyebrow together.

"Language, Miss Townsend," he chided. His hand brushed her cheek. "There's a kid here."

"We were getting ready to watch a movie!" Andy interrupted their moment.

"Which one?" He beamed at Andy's oblivious naïveté.

"Indiana Jones!"

"That's my favorite!" Marty swept Andy up and carried him to the sofa. "Kaye, pop it in!"

Kayla wondered at Marty's resilience. He looked like he had been through hell, and here he was, plopping onto the sofa to watch a movie with his son. She cozied up to Marty, he reciprocated by wrapping his arm around her and kissing the top of her head. Though Star Wars was one of her favorite movies, she hardly paid attention. Marty's face didn't betray much, but the moment he put his arm around her, his entire body relaxed more than it had in the past three months.

It was excruciating, waiting for Andy's bedtime. Both Marty and Kayla couldn't wait to be alone to talk...and other things. The movie helped pass the time, but the moment 9:00 rolled around, she practically yelled the announcement.

"Time for bed!"

Marty exhaled. "C'mon, kiddo." He lifted his son, carrying Andy to the bedroom.

Thankfully, Andy was already in his pajamas. The bedroom routine was mercifully short and, as Marty leaned over Andy to wish him goodnight, the boy wrapped his arm around his father's neck.

"Dad?" He called as Marty turned out the light.

"Yeah, Sport?"

"Did you get the bad guy?"

Marty smiled down at Andy. His son's innocence and trust struck his heart. "Sure did."

"Good." He rolled over, hugging his blankets to him, and Marty closed the door behind him.

Kayla stayed in the kitchen, forcing herself to focus on the dishes.

_He's home_, she reminded herself gleefully. It felt unreal. She expected to blink, to wake up, and discover it was all a dream.

But no; Marty returned from Andy's room. He came up behind her, snaked his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. She twirled around in his embrace and met his lips with hers. Resting her cheek on his chest, she let the tears flow.

"Hey," he whispered, lifting her chin to look into his blue eyes. "It's okay! I'm here."

"I can't believe you're home," she choked out. "I was so afraid you'd been shot, or killed; you've been gone so long!"

"I almost was," he replied honestly. "But I made a promise to a spunky little kid that I'd always come back."

"You're never leaving again." She gripped him tightly for emphasis. "Not ever."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against hers. "You know the risks of saving the world."

"Sure, but I don't have to like it." Her pout was juvenile and stubborn.

"I'll be sure to be the one with you at the end of the world, don't worry."

Kayla laughed. "No you won't! You'll be the one diffusing the doomsday device!"

"I would not! I would be with you and Andy!"

"Face it, the jealousy of Callen, Sam, and Kensi would be too much. You'll be there."

"Then I'll create a clone! They have those now, right?"

"You'd be too jealous of the clone. You do know that end-of-the-world sex is spectacular."

"Damn it!" He thought a moment. "I would totally stay with you for the zombie apocalypse!"

"Great! I'll have someone to trip while running away from the zombies!"

Marty released her, regarding Kayla with mock horror. "Not fair!"

"What? You want me to sacrifice my son?"

"Your brains are probably tastiest! Sacrifice yourself!"

"You're right," Kayla replied thoughtfully. "Your brain's so small, it wouldn't keep them occupied for long."

"Damn, I missed you!" Marty laughed, breaking the debate with sarcasm.

He reached for her hand, reeling her in.

"Missed you too, idiot."

He sighed, gazing down at her. "You know, this was the first case I had someone to live for, besides myself. Even on the worst days, I kept myself going with the thought that you were waiting for me."

Kayla stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I'm going to go freshen up." She released his hand, walking slowly toward the bedroom. Marty stood stock still, just watching her.

"You coming?" She winked.

He didn't have to be asked twice.

* * *

The sound of Kayla's singing was music to Marty's ears as he came to the next morning.

_Can't read my, can't read my, can't read my poker face! _He could picture her, dancing shamelessly around the kitchen. Andy was probably rolling his eyes in embarrassment as he ate breakfast-pancakes, by the smell of it. Kayla had left the window open, allowing the California breeze to flow in and out. He breathed deeply and relaxed into the sheets. After three months undercover in the slums of LA, clean sheets and fresh air were just the medicine he needed.

That, and a good, hot shower. He reveled in the water streams which washed the last of the blood off his hands and face. Turning away from the water, he cleaned his hair-thank goodness Kayla had kept his favorite shampoo!-and let his mind wander.

An undercover job that lasted as long as this one had was incredibly different from jobs where he had no one to worry about but himself. Every move was calculated; he was careful not to get lost in the character. He remembered the infamous Max Gentry, an alias so close to home; he had nearly become the bad guy he was trying to take down. He had slept with his best friend's wife, turned the same best friend into a snitch, and had committed unspeakable crimes in the name of the better good. This time around, he checked himself at every turn, a practice that left him stressed and guilt-ridden.

But what was he to do? It wasn't his fault that the best way to crack the case was to sleep with the mob boss's daughter. She was a beautiful creature, unspoiled by the money her father supplied and working her way through college honestly. It was a stereotype, but she had retained a devious streak, reminding him at unfortunate moments that she _was_ a daughter of the mob. The easiest way to gain her trust and be taken to her father was to seduce her.

So he slept with her. Once, twice, three times. It was like tearing out a piece of his soul. He felt worse that his body responded to the girl's touch. He had pictured Kayla at first, but as the alias took hold, lines blurred. The girl said she loved him. He responded in kind. A lie, but a painful one. He told a girl he barely knew that he loved her when Kayla lay at home, yearning for those exact words.

He stepped out of the shower, disgusted by his reflection. Growling in frustration, he shook his head roughly. Water droplets sprayed around the bathroom. He gripped the edges of the sink, focusing on his image.

Focus, Deeks. Your girlfriend and son are out there. Just be glad you're home.


	31. Chapter 31

"Mom?" Andy asked as Kayla flipped pancakes. "Is dad okay?"

"What do you mean, honey?"

"Last night, dad looked sad."

Kayla thought back. Marty had seemed off, but she assumed the behavior was related to just coming off a case.

"I'm sure he's just tired."

"Do we get to do something fun today?"

"We'll have to ask him. We didn't get a chance to talk."

"Did you spend all night kissing?" he teased.

"Andy…" she chided, carefully avoiding a straight answer.

"It's okay," he responded wisely. "I know grown-ups kiss."

Kayla suppressed a laugh. "Yes, they do."

"I bet you wanted to kiss him a lot after he's been gone so long."

She opened her mouth to respond, but Marty appeared, cutting her off with an exaggerated smooch on the cheek. "We didn't just kiss. We stayed up ALL night telling each other how much we love each other. You know, mushy, cootie stuff."

"Mushy?" Kayla elbowed him in the gut, but Andy's grossed out face was good enough; the subject was put to rest.

Kayla couldn't resist ogling his shirtless body as Marty trolled the fridge for milk. Clad in only sweatpants, those diagonal lines, an arrow pointing _south_, were exposed. Jocelyn once told her they were called Apollo's belt. She didn't care what they were called; she just knew that they always turned her on.

His face was freshly shaven, a final sign that the alias was gone. Last night, the sex had been rough, filled with the raw passion of lovers reunited. He had never been that rough before, she didn't mind, so much, but the glimmer in his eyes rendered him unrecognizable in her sight. The scruff on his face had scratched her face, chest, and wherever those lips wandered, whereas before, the light whiskers only tickled her skin. Finally, her Marty stood before her.

He turned, arms open, and smirked. The teasing glint in his eye only reassured her that he was unchanged.

"Like what you see?"

To his satisfaction, her cheeks turned bright pink. "Shut up!"

"What are we doing today?" Andy asked excitedly.

"Well, I have to go back to the office to fill out some paperwork," he started.

Kayla cut him off. "Right when you get back?"

"It was that, or come home at one in the morning. I wanted to see you guys right away."

"Well, if you put it that way..." Kayla's expression softened.

"Anyway," he continued, "I've been itching to get back in the water."

"Yeah!" Andy squealed, jumping up.

"Not now, Sport," he called after the kid. "When I get back!"

Kayla cracked a smile at the sound of Andy flopping onto his bed in disappointment. After serving up the pancakes, she smiled as Marty dug in.

"It's like you ate nothing while you were gone!" She remarked. Marty only nodded, his mouth full. "You know, you were just like that in bed last night: like you hadn't gotten any for three months."

If she hadn't been watching for a reaction, she might have missed the look of shame that flashed across her face. She dropped her utensils.

"You haven't gotten any in the past three months, right?"

He gulped. "Who could I possibly have to sleep with?"

"I don't know," she replied, a dangerous edge in her voice, "you tell me."

"Kayla," he reached for her hand. "It meant nothing. I was undercover."

She pulled away. Her chair squeaked angrily as she forced it back. She felt betrayed. Disgust filled her as the unbidden image of Marty and some floozy filled her mind. Suddenly nauseated, she clutched her stomach by the thought.

"Get out."

"Kayla," he pleaded, "you have to understand! It's all part of the job!"

She did understand, somewhere deep down, but she was so blinded by hatred, it didn't matter.

"Don't you have to go to work, or something?" She snapped.

Marty marched into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He emerged, moments later, fully dressed.

He made a point to kiss her hardened lips as he walked out the door. "We'll talk about this when I get back."

The door slammed in his face in answer.

He stared at the door. Part of him knew he deserved that, the other part thought that she would understand-it was all part of the job! Growing up around cops, she must have understood that it came with the territory, right?

Wrong, apparently.

He pounded his fists against the wall with a loud groan before stomping down the stairs.

* * *

On the other side of the door, Kayla paced the kitchen angrily. She pumped her fists up and down in cadence with her inner dialogue.

_That cheating bastard! Does he really think that sleeping with a mark is acceptable? He's a cop, not a con man!_

She paced until her feet were numb. During her inner debate, Andy had managed to turn on the TV, but she didn't care. She barely noticed, steadying her shaking hands with the back of a chair.

_What do I do?_

_Who can I talk to?_

The answer came in a flash. _Jocelyn_.

She fairly lunged for her phone, dialing the number at lightning speed. Safely behind a closed bedroom door, she pounced on her bed and tucked her feet in Indian style.

_Ring._

_Ring_

_Ring._

"Hello?"

"The bastard cheated on me," Kayla choked out. "He cheated on me!"

"Hold up, slow down!" Jocelyn was confused. "Who did what?"

"Marty cheated on me!" she screamed into the phone.

"Hey, now, don't get mad at me! I thought he was on assignment."

"He got back last night."

"And he's already pissed you off?"

"He admitted to cheating on me!"

"How did he cheat? He's only been back one night."

"On assignment," she choked, as if the answer was obvious. "He slept with the mark."

"Kayla," Jocelyn chided softly.

"Don't tell me you're on his side." _Poof!_ She plopped back onto the bed. "Unbelievable!"

"I can see why you'd be upset, but what he did wasn't cheating."

"He slept with another woman. Cut and dry."

"He was working, Kayla. It's part of the job."

"Every time I look at him—it's disgusting!"

"Kayla, if you have issue with one assignment, you're not going to last with him."

"Why would I want to last? He cheated on me!"

"It wasn't cheating, you idiot, and if you continue that train of thought, you're going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you!"

"But—"

"You know what, I'm hanging up."

"What? No!"

"Hanging up!"

"Joce—"

The line went dead.

"Bitch!" The yell echoed in the room.

Loneliness washed over her; she let the tears fall.

* * *

"You're an idiot."

Kayla slammed the vanilla extract onto the counter. "Oh, thank you, Pat; you're the third person to tell me this today. Why is everyone telling me _I'm_ the crazy one? _He_ is the one who cheated."

"Define cheating."

"He slept with another woman."

"Just like that?"

"How else?"

Pat closed the pantry door. "Okay…you know those romantic comedies you love so much?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the actors are kissing other actors, right?"

"Right?"

"Most of those actors are married."

"What are you getting at?"

"Just because they're kissing someone doesn't mean they're in love with them."

"It wasn't _just_ kissing, Pat."

"You need to understand that he was playing a part! It was just in real life, not the movies."

"How the hell are you so understanding?"

"Does it matter? He didn't cheat on you. He had a job to do. He can't tell you what it was, or any details, but he did it as best he could and he came back to you."

"And I'm supposed to just understand that after three months away, three months of sleeping with some other chick, I should just let him pick up where we left off?"

"He's been struggling too, sweetie. He left you for three months, and now you won't let him come back. I've known sailors who deploy for seven to eight months on end. All they want is to be back home with family."

"Okay, say it isn't cheating. I'm no actor's wife; I'm not used to seeing my guy kiss other women."

"You are dating an _undercover cop_, Kayla. He's an actor with real bullets."

"But how am I supposed to get the vision of the two of them out of my head?"

"You never even saw the girl, Kayla," she reminded her.

"Which makes it all the more difficult! For all I know, she could look like Megan Fox, or Natalie Portman, or some other unattainable hottie."

"I'm not saying this is going to be easy, Kayla, but this is one of those times you need to be understanding."

Kayla bit her lip. Pat was right. This _wasn't_ going to be easy.

* * *

Nothing could have been more confusing than Kayla's emotional 180. Marty had been so glad to see her. She had been glad to see him, as illustrated by their romp in the sheets. It was obvious that some bad habits had snaked their way into his technique. She played along. He was grateful, but the new tricks tipped her off.

_Damn it!_ He cursed himself for the slip up.

With any other girlfriend, it wouldn't matter. They wouldn't care. They wouldn't even notice. If they did, they'd probably like it. But Kayla—she knew him so well, she barely blinked before accusing him. It stung that she didn't understand. He knew what she thought of him; her brain was hardwired to jump to cheating. Betrayal was an automatic conclusion, especially for her. He'd be damned if all the progress made was flushed down the tubes just because he did his job.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Deeks?" Hetty stood beside him, her head even with his seated gaze.

Marty put on his game face, grinning charmingly. "I'm back in the light; of course I'm all right."

"The light may be a bit dim in the doghouse."

His smile wavered. "How'd you know about that?"

"Oh, Mr. Deeks, at my age, there is little hidden from my eyes."

"Kayla thinks I cheated."

"Well, did you?" she asked. The question was almost rhetorical, save the slight tint of curiosity.

"I slept with the mark, but it's hardly cheating."

"Is that what you think, or what you are trying to convince yourself?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. I've done this a thousand times, but it's never mattered before."

"You've never cared before."

"Kayla's tough, but she can sometimes be tough for the wrong reasons. She refuses to see my side."

"But do you see her side?"

"She's just overly scared I'm going to ditch her again."

"Are her fears founded in truth?"

"The last time, I left her for detective work."

"So this is a trigger for her."

"I suppose."

She raised her hands for emphasis. "Just try to put yourself in her shoes."

* * *

"Mom, what did you and dad fight about?" Andy swung her hand as they walked home.

"Nothing bad, sweetie," she reassured, "everything's fine."

"Don't lie to me!" he yelled, stopping her. "I'm not stupid!"

He looked so confused; Kayla knelt to meet him eye to eye.

"Yes, we're fighting." She stroked his hair. "We're just going to spend a little bit of time apart."

"Will we still be a family?" The childish eyes were fearful.

"Honey, we'll always be a family."

"No, we won't!" he cried. "You and dad are always fighting! _Always!_"

Kayla closed her eyes. The words stung. Everything she had been fighting for: Andy's happiness, a sense of family, and Marty's presence in his life—would be lost unless she let her own selfishness go. She had pushed against him to avoid hurting herself that she had forgotten about her own son's feelings.

During her time as a single parent, Andy's happiness was a given; he was her only concern. Marty's entrance threw her off, divided her affections, and messed with her head. It wasn't his fault, rather, it was hers. Despite her efforts to give herself over to Deeks, she harbored deep grudges. Why else would she jump to the conclusion of cheating so quickly?

If she would gain the happiness she and her son desired, she would need to work through this, not leave him because of something she didn't understand. He said he didn't cheat; she knew now that sleeping with a mark was dangerous, but not necessarily cheating. He had returned to her, he had made love to her, and he had stayed. It was her who kicked him out.

Now she needed him to stay.

"I know, sweetie," she replied, kissing his forehead. "I'm going to work on that."

* * *

Marty was waiting for them at the apartment. Kayla cursed ever giving him a key; it gave him an advantage.

_This isn't a war_.

"Dad!" Andy rushed to Marty's side.

"Hey, Sport! How was your day of drudgery—I mean school?"

Kayla grinned; they were adorable together. Marty was relieved to see the smile.

"Hey, kid, go get changed; I have to talk to your mom."

"Are you two going to fight?"

Kayla answered for Marty. "No, sweetie, we just need to talk."

Andy raced to his room; Marty turned back to Kayla. They both opened their mouths to speak, but Kayla got there first.

"I have to say this before I lose the courage," she blurted, afraid the words would expire on her tongue.

He leaned against the counter, nodding respectfully.

"I'm sorry—for everything. I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, for pushing you off, and for keeping my—our—son from you. I may have given myself physically, but I was only protecting myself. But I forgot about Andy's happiness. You make him happy. To be more specific, we make him happy. I'm too busy jumping to conclusions to just _let us happen_."

Marty moved to speak; she cut him off.

"That being said, I don't blame you for what happened on the case. You were doing your job; I can't blame you for being good at it. But I can't get the image of you sleeping with another woman out of my head. I want a life with you and Andy, I do, but I need some time to wrap my mind around it. I need space."

He nodded again; she allowed him to rest his hand on her elbow. "And Andy?"

"I'm not going to keep you from our son; the space is just for me. Your presence has a tendency to mess with my head."

Deeks couldn't resist pulling her just a bit closer, grinning wolfishly. She leaned into him, reveling in his proximity.

"I mess with your head?" His voice was husky.

Forehead to forehead, her voice dropped to a whisper. "I want us to work, but I need to sort out my issues."

"When?"

"When this make sense?"

"You and I have never made sense; that's what makes us so perfect."

"Marty, I'm far from perfect."

"But you're perfect for me." He dipped his chin just enough to kiss her. She returned the kiss before pushing him away gently.

"Okay, lover boy," she grinned. "A little space is all I ask."

"A kiss for the road?" He looked at her with his irresistible puppy dog eyes.

She indulged, not just for his sake, but for hers.

Andy appeared in the doorway. "Ready to go, Dad?"

Kayla moved aside slowly. He allowed himself a caress of her cheek before taking Andy's hand.

"I'll call you when we're on our way home."

She closed the door behind them, running her fingers through her hair. Finally, she could breathe.

* * *

Far from soothing Kayla, Marty's absence unsettled her. She kept turning to the empty space, expecting some sort of comedic anecdote or sarcastic remark. Instead silence answered her. It was shocking to discover how much Marty had become a fixture in her day.

Was this what codependence felt like? She hoped not. She would rue the day she depended on a man for her identity. Marty's assignment had lasted nearly three months, and she had borne it with grace. She breathed deeply. No, this wasn't codependence. Still, to reassure herself, she buckled down at work.

Andy raced through the door, hugging her at the table.

"Hey, sweetie! Where's your dad?"

"Oh, he dropped me off. Why isn't Dad staying for dinner?" Andy was curious.

"We're just giving each other some space."

He raised his eyebrows. "What does that even mean?"

"It's a grown-up term, Andy. I just needed to clear my head. One day you'll understand."

"How does space clear your head? I thought Dad made you better."

"Makes me better?" Kayla repeated. "Where'd you hear that?"

"I heard you talking to Aunt Pat."

"You little eavesdropper!"

"Did you and dad break up again?"

"No," she answered emphatically. "I just need to figure some things out."

"Can I help?" Andy pushed his chair into the table.

"You can get me the cereal and milk."

"Cereal for dinner?" Andy was skeptical but happy. "We've never had cereal for dinner."

"Well, I don't need to make dinner for you dad, and I'm tired. What do you say to cereal and some Phineas and Ferb?"

"Sounds perfect."


	32. Chapter 32

Morning found Kayla bleary eyed and groggy. They had stayed up until eleven, at least. On a school night, that was the equivalent of going to bed at three in the morning.

"C'mon, troublemaker!" she groaned, her voice carrying from her room to Andy's.

"Don't wanna!"

"Your dad is picking you up for school in thirty minutes! Get your butt out of bed!"

There was a thump, indicating his body rolling out of bed. He emerged, minutes later, dressed in mismatched army pants and a plaid button-up. A beanie covered his pronounced bedhead. Kayla plopped a fresh bowl of cereal on the table; he wolfed it down wordlessly.

Glancing out the window, Kayla spotted a black SUV. Government issue, she surmised, smiling to herself. If he was using a government vehicle for personal business, his boss would have his head.

"Eat up, kid," she yawned. "Your dad's here."

Andy hopped up, leaving his half-eaten cereal on the table. Grabbing his backpack, he bolted out the door. "Have a good day!"

She moved to the window, desperate for a glimpse of Deeks. Andy's backpack bobbed down the stairs and into the street. She smiled as he glanced back to wave at her, but the smile turned to look of horror. A pair of arms—distinctively _not_ Marty's—reached out of the back seat, pulling a writhing Andy into the back seat.

Kayla's heart stopped, along with coherent thoughts. She bolted out the door and down the stairs, still dressed in plaid pajamas, tank top, and Marty's old coat. Screaming, she ran after the vehicle. The crags in the pavement cut her bare feet, but she didn't care. A crack tripped her up and she fell to the ground.

"Kaye!" Deeks had arrived. "What the fuck?"

He helped her up; her hands and knees were bleeding.

"They got him!" She was hysterical. "They took him!"

Grabbing her shoulders, he steadied her. "Who? Who took who?"

"They've got Andy, you fucking moron! They have our son!"

"_WHO?_" he shook her into the present.

"I have _no_ idea!" she yelled back.

Marty dropped her shoulders long enough to whip out his cell phone.

"Kensi!" his voice was just as urgent as Kayla's. "Andy's been taken—yes, taken as in kidnapped."

As Marty held his one-sided conversation, Kayla focused on _not_ hyperventilating. Still on the phone, he wrapped her up in his free arm.

"It's going to be okay," he said firmly, hanging up. "We'll get the team on the case. What do you remember?"

"There was a guy in the back seat—I think he had dark skin—in a black SUV. The plates were blacked out."

"So we've got nothing," he said wryly.

"Nada."

"Don't worry. We'll get this bastard—bastards." He was breathing heavily; Kayla buried her face in his chest. "Okay. I have to go into the office."

"I'm going with you."

"You can't," he replied apologetically. "It's a classified facility."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Kaye," he crooned, "you know this drill from your training. You have to be at home in case the kidnappers call. In the meantime, I'll get the low-down back at OPS."

The cold truth hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh."

"It's going to be okay."

She looked at him despondently, "How? They have my son!"

"He's my son, too," he kissed her nose, "and I will do everything I can to get him back to us."

Sighing, she hugged him tightly. "So I guess the whole space thing was a bust."

His chest vibrated as he laughed. "Guess so."

The sound of running feet broke the moment. "Kayla? What's going on?"

Kayla wiped her eyes, breaking away from Marty's chest. "Pat!" she sighed in relief.

Deeks had an altogether different reaction. Releasing Kayla, he whirled on the landlady. One hand wrapped around her arm, the other grabbed her shoulder. He shoved her against the wall roughly.

"_WHO ARE YOU?_"

"Marty!" Kayla pulled on his arm; he shook her free.

_Who are you?_" he yelled.

"What are you talking about?"

Kayla tried again. "Marty Deeks _what are you doing?_"

His nostrils flared with anger as he stared Pat down. "_How are you involved?_"

Pat shook herself free, confused but defiant. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you take Andy?"

"What are you talking about?" Pat sputtered.

"Marty," Kayla argued, "She was just out getting groceries!"

"She took him, I know it!"

Kayla threw herself between the twosome, shoving them apart. _"SHUT UP!"_

Deeks balled his fists, but one look into Kayla's fiery eyes made him step back. Pat straightened her shirt, retaining what little dignity she had.

"Now _someone_ just kidnapped my son. I don't know who, and I don't know why, but standing here arguing will accomplish nothing. So why don't you tell me _why_ you think my landlady kidnapped my son?"

To her surprise, it was Pat who hung her head. "Actually, Kayla," Pat sighed, "I'm not exactly your landlady."

Deeks smiled vindictively as Kayla gaped at her friend. "What?"

"I was planted here to protect you."

Kayla was speechless, betrayal filling her heart. It was Deeks who spoke. "By who?"

"Henrietta Lange."

"Who?" Of course, Kayla had never heard the name before, but Deeks had.

Quick as lightning, he shoved Pat against the wall once more. "Why should I believe you?"

"You can call her," the woman insisted. "She'll explain everything."

His eyes glinted murderously and he released his grip. "Don't move."

Whipping out his cell, he dialed Hetty's direct line.

Kayla turned to Pat. "How—?"

But the words wouldn't come. She could only stare at her landlady.

Deeks, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to give Hetty a firm talking to. The meddling director had played her last con.

"Hetty Lange," she answered the phone.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Deeks seethed into the telephone. Somehow, the lack of Hetty's physical presence gave him the courage to speak his mind-or at least try.

"What are you referring to, Mr. Deeks?"

"Kayla's landlady claims she works for you."

"Yes, Ms. O'Neal, or rather, Ms. Miller, is one of mine."

"One of yours? What gives you the right?-" He couldn't get anything else out. He was too furious.

"She was stationed to protect Kayla and Andy."

"Protect Andy?" he repeated in disbelief. "Andy was just kidnapped and she was out getting _groceries_."

"Ah." Her monosyllabic response was positively infuriating. "Any leads?"

"I don't know! I'm too busy interrogating the landlady!"

"Mr. Deeks," she interrupted his thoughts, "we can discuss this later. Right now, you need to get to OPS. If someone's taken Andy, it can't be a simple kidnapping."

Marty's blood ran cold as he came to the same conclusion. Was it one of his enemies? Someone he'd put away coming after him? He dealt with a lot of shady characters, any number of which would be able to pull off a heist like this one.

Swallowing his pride, he responded. "Understood."

* * *

Marty burst into OPS, Kensi in his wake. If the doors didn't slide on their own, they might have slammed into the wall.

"They've got my son."

Nell's jaw dropped, along with Eric, Callen, and Sam.

"Someone took Andy?" she shrieked.

Hetty walked through the door. Her head barely reached Marty's waist, but she commanded the room's attention.

"That is not the issue right now, Ms. Jones," she chided. "The issue is that Andy Townsend was taken from outside his apartment at 6:55 AM, under the watchful eye of his mother, a former LAPD officer."

Marty took over the brief. "They must have been staking the place out over the past few weeks; Kayla always sends Andy down first while she grabs her keys. Whoever they were, they thought I was still on assignment."

"Let's start with the obvious," Callen started. "Who do you think could have done this?"

"I don't know, man," he rubbed his chin. "I have a thousand enemies, bad guys or not. Hell, the entire police force hates my guts."

Kensi grinned. "Everyone you've ever worked with hates you guts."

"What about the mother?" Sam cut in.

"She doesn't have enough friends to make enemies." He smile grimly.

Kensi sensed his hesitance. "What?"

"There is her father."

"Daddy issues, seriously?" Callen threw up his hands. The list of suspects could fill a book and it kept getting bigger.

He was hesitant to elaborate; Kayla was private enough with him, it was unlikely she wanted anyone else to know. "He's a local sheriff with a violent streak. He stopped by about six months ago and beat her up."

"And you didn't report it?" Callen inquired.

"She asked me not to. We ran him off, and I thought he got the message." Squaring his shoulders, he faced the team. "Kens, I need you to go stay with Kayla. Eric, look into the activities of my most violent offenders; the sort of guys who would try something like this. If they were anywhere near Kayla's place, I want to know about it."

"Deeks," Hetty cut him off. "This is still my team; I'll give the orders. I understand where you're coming from, but we both know you're too compromised to run this thing. I'll let you stay on, but I call the shots."

All he wanted was to get out there and find the son of a bitch who had taken his son, and arguing would solve nothing. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"What do you want me to do?"


	33. Chapter 33

Pat followed Kayla back into the apartment. With Andy gone, it wasn't a good idea to leave her charge alone. Kayla would go after her son, or worse.

Kayla paced the floor, thoughts racing. In the span of fifteen minutes, two of the closest people in her life had been taken from her: Andy, literally, and Pat, by betrayal. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to make sense of it all.

"Kaye," Pat tried to calm her, "It was my job to protect you."

"Fat lot of good that did," Kayla spat back. "How dare you lie to me? You said I was like a daughter to you!"

"And you are!" Pat insisted. "I didn't expect to care as much as I do."

"So, it's like one of those horrible romances? They lie to get close, then their feelings change and they feel conflicted until they come clean? Everything ends up fine?"

"I was never conflicted. I lied because it was my job."

"Why would you even need to protect me? What enemies could I possibly have?"

"They're Marty's enemies," Pat explained, sitting at the table. "My boss, Hetty, has had her eye on him for a while. When she found out about you and Andy, she sent me to watch over you. If anyone with a vendetta against Deeks found you, they would use you against him. She didn't want to lose such a valuable asset before she had a chance to use him."

"So what? Does she have people guarding her other agents' families?"

"No; most of them are unmarried."

"So she just wanted you to lie to me."

"It's not like that!" Pat defended. "Do you think it was in my job description to work for you, or babysit, or help you start your business? I went above and beyond because you deserve it—and I do feel like a mother to you. It's horrible that you lost yours so young. You needed someone who cared."

"So I was assigned an agent?"

Pat shrugged. "I'm not exactly an agent."

"Oh?" Kayla was curious.

"I'm a former NCIS psychiatrist."

"Of course they would send me a shrink," Kayla muttered. "Wait—former?"

"I left the field about seven years ago, but Hetty called me in as a favor."

"A five-year favor?" Kayla asked skeptically.

"Something like that."

Kayla took a deep breath. "I can't deny that you've been a rock for me—but why the lies?"

"Up until recently, you had no ties to Marty. If I had told you who I was or why I was here, how do you think it would have gone down?"

"I'd have gone made looking for him."

"Right. You needed to find him on your own terms."

"Well," she sighed, "I feel like a bit of an experiment, but this is the least of my problems."

"Agreed."

"What do I do?"

"Hetty will handle it. She always does. The best team on the West Coast is working on the case right now. Don't worry," Pat reassured, squeezing Kayla's hand, "we'll find him."

After debrief, Deeks tracked Hetty to her office. She poured herself a cup of tea as if nothing was amiss before sitting serenely at her desk.

"Yes, Mr. Deeks?"

"You know why I'm here," he seethed. "What gives you the right to stalk my girlfriend? Meddling in the field is one thing, even messing with our heads, but my girlfriend and son are off limits."

Hetty took a sip of tea before responding. "Ms. O'Neal is a former NCIS psychiatrist and a personal friend of mine. I asked her to look after Kayla and Andy as a favor."

"For the past five years?" he was furious. "I knew you followed me for a while, but Kayla?"

"We were trying to protect her—and you. If anyone found out about Andy, they'd use him against you."

"A fat lot of good that did."

"Mr. Deeks, in light of recent events, it would do well for you to put your differences aside and focus on the problem at hand."

He gritted his teeth. "Fine."

Kensi inspected Kayla's apartment with an extra air of professionalism. There were quite a few changes around the place. Photographs of Deeks, Andy, and Kayla had migrated onto the wall, filling the spaces between Andy's paintings. The living room was an absolute mess, dirty cereal bowls laid about the coffee table and blankets thrown askew on the sofa, right next to Pat. Despite the situation, she knew that talking to Kayla after their debate would only rile her up more.

In the kitchen, Kayla was in a frenzy. Flour coated the counter tops; eggs, butter, and chocolate chips lay scattered around the mixer. The contraption whirred annoyingly, and Kensi finally switched it off.

"Why don't you sit down?" she finally sighed.

Kayla looked up from the batter apologetically. "I bake when I'm nervous."

"I get that, but you're messing up my crime scene."

"Right," she froze. "I guess I'm not handling this very well."

"I've seen worse," Kensi replied. "Besides coating the kitchen in flour, you're doing great!"

Defeated, she sunk into a kitchen chair. "Is there any news?"

"No. If Eric gets any info, he'll let us know."

"What about Marty?"

The agent shot Kayla a look; Kayla opted to fiddle with her fingers. Of course everyone was busy doing what they could, but she needed something to do. She reached for the phone to call Pat, only to remember the phone needed to be free. Unable to use the phone, cook, or clean, she flopped dejectedly onto the sofa and switched on the TV.

"Guys, do you have anything?" Marty popped into OPS for the umpteenth time.

"Sorry, no leads," Nell replied sympathetically. "Your enemies have been particularly quiet—at least, regarding anything that would indicate child abduction."

Marty reviewed the screen. A series of images lined a panel; they appeared to be from Kayla's street and apartment. "What's this?"

"Oh, the landlady turned in the security cam footage."

"Pat bugged Kayla's apartment?" he fairly shrieked. The stolen kisses, intimate moments, and trysts had all been seen by the landlady. He felt extremely violated.

"I think it's just video," Eric interjected, hitting a couple of buttons. The sound of Kayla's singing as she washed the dishes blared in the center. Marty glared at Eric who immediately muted the video. "Apparently not."

Shooting another glare for good measure, he looked back to the screen. "Is that the—"

"Yup," Nell replied grimly, answering his unspoken question.

A vein pulsed in Marty's neck as he watched the abduction footage played on repeat.

"Do we have anything on the car?"

"Looks like a government-issue SUV," Eric analyzed, "but it seems to lack a few enhancements the feds have."

"Like what?"

"From what I can tell, the glass is tinted but not bulletproof, and the tires aren't government issue."

"Any way to trace the origin?"

"Searching now," Nell answered. The tire tread analysis scrolled through the database in the upper corner. As if in answer, the system dinged.

"Okay," Eric chimed in. "It looks like these are a run-of-the-mill brand, but they're coated to double for off-roading."

"How many places do that?"

"Three, in the immediate LA area."

"Any of those cater to low-lives?"

"Well, two only do tire resurfacing for trucks, so my best bet is the third." Nell indicated the third address.

"Great! I'll go check it out!"

"No, you won't," Hetty's omniscient intercom voice stalled his momentum. "I'm sending Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna; they're already en route."

"Just give me something to do!" Deeks lost his cool.

"Go help Ms. Blye at Ms. Townsend's apartment. The FBI just arrived and Ms. Blye will need you to handle them."


	34. Chapter 34

Mold.

Rotten wood.

Andy may have been blindfolded, but his nose picked up every distinct scent in the room.

Was it even a room? The air was dank, but not quite still. Listening, he could just make out the sea breeze as it whistled through a crack in the wall. Was it the door? There was no way to tell. He deduced that he was in some sort of abandoned boathouse.

The abduction played over in his head. He remembered running across the street and reaching for the door. His mind barely had time to register that the car didn't belong to his dad before strange arms wrapped around his middle. He had broken free, but they caught him again. Twisting in his arms, Andy managed to sock one captor on what felt like his eye. The man had yelped, but maintained his grip.

Despite his fear, Andy managed a smile. Dad would be proud.

Now, he found himself tied to a sturdy chair in an unknown room. Most kids would freak out, but Andy was not most kids. He knew his father would come, the only question was when.

"Stop smiling, kid," one of the captors ordered. His voice was gravely, but held boyish tones. Andy guessed he wasn't even twenty.

"My dad's going to get you."

"Your dad is going to pay me and then you'll go home safe and sound," the second abductor replied. He was older, if only by a few years. "That's how this works."

"My dad is a cop."

"Dude!" The young captor's voice cracked in shock. "The sheriff never told us the dad was a cop."

"Shut up, man! He's blindfolded, not deaf."

"You really think an eight-year-old kid will know what we're talking about? There are hundreds of sheriffs in Cali alone."

"Yeah, but how many would want this specific kid missing? You've already underestimated him…how's that black eye?"

"Shut up."

Andy grinned. "You guys have no idea what you've done, do you?"

"Why? What have we done?" the boy piped up after a moment of silence.

"I'm guessing the sheriff you're helping is tall and muscly? Black hair, brown eyes?"

"Son of a bitch!"

Andy smirked, his childish impertinence infuriating his captors. "The sheriff is my granddad. My dad is a cop, and my mom trained at the police academy."

"Fuck," the older guy cursed.

"Dude, there's a kid here!"

"My dad is gonna kick your ass," Andy sang.

"Grab him," the older captor ordered.

Hands wrapped around Andy's face, forcing his jaw open.

"This won't hurt a bit," the younger kidnapper assured.

Something rubbed the inside of Andy's cheek—a cotton swab, maybe?—and he did the first thing that came to mind: he bit down as hard as he could.

"Son of a bitch!"

He smirked, satisfied with is work. He heard the sound of tape ripping as his smirk was covered by duct tape.

Worth it, he thought with a grin.

"Is there any news?" Kayla asked as Deeks pulled up.

"Not really," he replied grimly. "We found the car, but we can't find any ties to any enemies of mine."

Her face fell, and she wrapped her arms around him.

Kissing the top of her head, he took her face in his hands. "We're going to find the son of a bitch who did this," he growled determinedly. "No one messes with this family."

The phone rang, causing everyone to freeze.

"Wait 'til the second ring," an Kensi advised.

Kayla's heart was in her throat as she picked it up, but she was surprised to recognize the number.

"Alan?"

"Hi, sweetie," the sheriff greeted. "I heard about Andy's kidnapping, is everything okay?"

Shields up. "Since when do you care?"

"I care about my grandson! Just because you refuse to let me near him doesn't make me less of a grandfather."

"Yes, it does. I told you to butt out. How did you even find out, anyway? Aren't you under investigation or something?"

"Oh, that'll blow over soon. I can still access my files if I want to. Do you need my help on the case?"

"Why would I need your help?"

"I know a few things about the case."

"Alan, this is a federal case. There's no way you have access to that information."

"Kayla, I think you'll want my help," he replied darkly.

"I really know I don't."

"You won't find him without my help."

Kayla spoke slowly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let me help and I'll let you know."

"Alan," Kayla gasped. "Did you do this?"

"Of course not!" The sheriff scoffed.

"Did you kidnap your own grandson?"

"Kayla, you're delusional," he replied, but his voice lacked confidence.

"I swear, if you lay one finger on my son, I will personally skewer you."

Hanging up, she looked to Deeks.

"It's Alan," she announced shakily. "Alan did this. I don't know how, but he did."

Deeks whirled into action, calling Eric for research. Dialing a new number, Kayla set to work.

"Jocelyn!" she breathed when the friend picked up.

"Kayla! What's going on?"

"Have you seen Alan?"

"No, not since he was suspended, why?"

"They suspended Alan and you didn't tell me?"

"Every time I bring him up, you get all dark and mysterious and borderline suicidal. Why does this matter?"

"Because I'm pretty sure he took Andy."

"Wait—Andy's been kidnapped?"

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure Alan is responsible. Have you seen anything around the precinct that might be considered suspicious?"

Jocelyn sucked in a breath, thinking. "Not really—he did bail out a couple of petty thieves a couple of weeks ago."

"Names?"

The sound of typing came through the phone's speaker as Jocelyn searched the database. "Jonathan Clarke and Max Connor."

"Deeks!" Kayla called; he was still on the phone. "Have Eric run a check on a Jonathan Clarke and Max Connor."

He nodded and did as instructed.

"Kaye, do you need me down there?"

"No," Kayla decided. "Stay there and tell me if anything happens. Do you know where Alan is right now?"

"He's on suspension, so he's not here. I hear he frequents the pub a couple blocks from the station."

"Okay, good."

"Kaye?" Jocelyn asked worriedly. "Are you going to be all right?"

She sighed. "I'm worried sick, but Deeks and Kensi is here, and NCIS is working the case."

"Okay, honey; keep me posted."

"Will do."

Kayla hung up as Deeks finished up his conversation.

"So," he began, sliding his phone back into his pocket, "Maxwell Connor and Jonathan Clarke are small-time thieves. Why?"

"Alan bailed them out a week ago."

"Your dad, the sheriff of a police station, bailed out two felons? Why?"

"You got me. Jocelyn tells me it was his last act before suspension. He's been under investigation for the past month and a half."

"And you think the two are connected?"

"Well," Kayla theorized, "As a sheriff, Alan would never get his hands dirty with association to the actual crime. He probably bailed the guys out and in return, they did him this favor."

"Kidnapping his grandkid? That makes no sense," Kensi chimed in.

"Well, Alan has always been a bit unstable. Sense was never in his repertoire. I'm surprised a statutory rapist has remained in office for this long."

"Okay," Deeks paced, working through the problem. "So if Alan hired Connor and Clarke to do the dirty work, he must have been the one to sign for the impound car!"

Kensi was unconvinced. "Do you really think your dad would do this?"

"Deeks, you've met him, do you think Alan is capable of this?"

The vision of Kayla pressed up against the door, Alan's hand tight around her throat, flashed in his head. "Oh, hell, yes."

Kensi whipped out her phone. "I'll have Eric check those records."

"The question remains: where is he keeping Andy?" Kayla asked.

"We'll stake out his house and the bar. He's bound to go visit Andy eventually. The obsession is with the kid."

"Okay."

"I'll call Callen and let him know."

Kayla plopped down onto the sofa. Her head was spinning with dread. Around her, the agents paced the floor, barking out orders and clues. It was tiring. All she wanted was to hold her son again—and it hadn't even been five hours.

"Eric says the order was signed by Sheriff Alan Miles," Kensi announced, hanging up on Eric.

"Callen and Sam are headed to the bar; Kensi and I have to take the house." Deeks sat beside Kayla. "Will you be okay here?"

Kensi gathered her things and headed to the car, leaving the pair for a moment of silence.

"Marty, I'm scared," she whispered, burying her head in his chest. "This is all my fault! I'm a horrible parent; I let my kid out of my sight, and he's gone."

"Hey," he breathed. "I will never let anything happen to Andy, or you. We're getting him back, and that's that. In the meantime, Pat is going to stay with you."

She sniffled. "Okay."

He kissed her lips and was gone. Kayla sat in silence, staring at the phone. She barely noticed Pat's arrival.

The door opened, slamming against the wall. Both of Andy's kidnappers jumped, and he knew that a new player had entered the building. The blindfold was lifted from his eyes and he squinted in the dim light, finally focusing on the newcomer.

Black hair, brown eyes—he had seen this man once before, at the apartment.

Grandpa.

The sheriff gestured to his two cronies. "Get out."

He turned back to Andy, ripping the tape roughly from his lips.

"Hello, Alan," Andy greeted.

The sheriff grimaced. "Do you know why you're here?" he asked, as if speaking to a two-year-old.

"You're a sick, twisted, old man?"

"Because I'm your dad."

Andy blinked, but refused to believe it. "You're lying," he replied confidently.

"We'll find out soon enough," the older man replied grimly. "I had my friends here take a paternity test. We should know in a couple of hours."

"Are you saying you had sex with my mom?"

Alan blinked at the kid in surprise.

"I'm eight, old enough to know what sex is. You're gross."

The sheriff's hand twitched, desperately wanting to strike the boy for his insolence.

As if Andy could tell, he smiled infuriatingly in response. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I'm going to keep you here until Kayla realizes you belong with me."

"But I don't belong to you. I belong to my mom and Marty."

This time, he slapped Andy across the face. "Marty is a degenerate and doesn't belong with Kayla."

"Marty is a great dad—greater than you ever would be!"

"Really?" Alan asked in a challenging tone.

"Really! He'd never hit me and he loves me."

"I love you," he replied unconvincingly.

"No, you don't. And my dad is going to find you and put you in jail."

The sheriff was so frustrated, he rammed the blindfold into Andy's mouth, gagging him effectively.

"You are my son. You need to forget about Marty; he'll never find you here."

Andy couldn't smile due to the fabric in his mouth, but his eyes still sparked with defiance. The sheriff stormed out, slamming the door behind him.


	35. Chapter 35

The phone buzzed in Marty's pocket as Kensi sped down the freeway. He furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar number before answering.

"Deeks," he barked impatiently.

"Marty!" a female voice greeted.

Deeks wracked his brain, trying to place the caller. "Amanda!" he exclaimed finally. The LAPD lab tech and he had gone out twice before he stopped calling. "What's up?"

"I…don't know how to ask this," she started hesitantly.

He had no patience for a booty call now. "Amanda, can you call back later? I'm in the middle of something."

"I know," she backpedaled.

"Wait—you know?"

"Just listen," the tech pleaded. "Sheriff Alan Miles told me to run a DNA match against a swab and an unknown sample."

Deeks switched to speaker phone. "Any idea why?"

"No, he was super enigmatic."

"So?"

"Well, he didn't know that I can not only match samples, but look up unknowns. The sample came up as a familial match to him…but it also matched you."

"And?"

"It means you have a kid with his daughter."

Marty's mind went into overdrive. "Amanda, when did you get that sample?"

"About an hour ago, why?"

"Long story. Did you send him the results?"

"Not yet."

"Good," Deeks sighed. "Don't tell him."

"Marty, what's going on?"

"Alan kidnapped my kid, Andy Townsend," he explained grimly. "Looks like he hadn't given up on the idea of paternity after all."

"Paternity?" Amanda grimaced audibly. "Gross."

Deeks sighed. "Yeah, well, that's not even all of it. Do you know where he is?"

"No, he left in a hurry."

"Can you call him?"

"I guess…" she thought aloud, "I can tell him there was something abnormal in the results."

"Do that."

Kensi pulled a highly illegal U-turn as Deeks patched Eric in. He didn't even wait for a greeting, blurting out his report.

"Eric, I need you to trace the following number: 555-7629."

"Tracking…" Eric narrated. "Okay, it's a burner cell; it looks clean."

"Can you trace it?"

"I need a live call."

"I can give that to you," he confirmed. "Amanda, you still there?"

"Yup!"

"Great. I need you to call Alan now."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. Call him from your cell, but keep us on the lab speakerphone. Keep him talking for as long as you can."

Amanda took a deep breath. "Okay."

The phone rang distantly, echoing on the speakerphone. Alan picked up. "Hello?"

"Yes, sheriff?" Amanda's voice shook slightly, but she kept her head. "I ran the test you requested."

"And?"

"The results were inconclusive."

"What do you mean inconclusive?" His voice reverberated with controlled impatience.

"The sample was contaminated."

"Contaminated? How?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she replied tensely. "There are a number of factors, like, did whoever took the sample wear gloves? What did the subject eat for lunch? Did he brush his teeth?"

Every suggestion infuriated the sheriff even more. "What does that even matter?"

"Well," Amanda became more confident. This was her area of expertise. "Anything in the mouth can mess with the sample."

"Is there any way to get a good sample?"

"Blood samples are more reliable," she continued.

Deeks winced. The only way someone would get blood from Andy was over his dead body.

The sheriff laughed. "Blood?"

"Blood," she confirmed.

The line clicked; the sheriff had hung up.

"There you have it," Amanda sighed, her breath shaking as she came down.

"Thanks; lay low until this is over," Deeks ordered.

Kensi's phone vibrated, indicating a text from Eric.

_1212 Sycamore Lane._

Pedal to the metal, the SUV screeched into action. "Eric, we're on our way."

Kayla hated waiting. She itched to do something—anything. Her eyes flickered to the shelf where she hid her berretta.

No, Kayla, she reminded herself. No one will die today.

Pat was much better at the waiting game. She had raided the fridge, switched on the TV, and was currently engrossed in The Price is Right. With nothing better to do, Kayla grabbed a soda and joined her.

Both women jumped as a phone went off—Kayla's. She dove for the coffee table, nearly knocking over Pat's drink.

"Marty?" she asked frantically. "Any news?"

"What does 1212 Sycamore Lane mean to you?"

"That's my home…I mean, that's where I grew up. What about it?"

"That's where your dad is. We're headed there now."

"I'm coming too," she insisted.

"Hell, no," Deeks growled. "You need to stay away."

Kayla scoffed defiantly. "Like you can stop me."

"You're right, I can't stop you. But I want you safe."

"And I want Andy safe!"

"I want him safe, too!" Deeks yelled. "But I can't focus if _you_ aren't safe!"

"I can help you."

"Absolutely not!"

Kayla sighed and hung up. "Stupid son of a bitch," she muttered before looking Pat in the eye. "You coming?"

"Where?" Pat's face was unreadable.

"1212 Sycamore Lane."

Deeks leapt into action the moment they arrived at the house, directing officers around the perimeter. It was odd, seeing Kayla's childhood home. From what he could tell, it the outside was well kept. The grass was green and cut, the siding clean and painted. For a house without a woman in it, it was clear to Deeks that a service was responsible for the upkeep. The view through the windows was obscured by copious amounts of dust and dirt. There was no way to tell if anyone was even inside.

Jocelyn greeted him from her post with a grim smile; he returned it appreciatively.

He felt Kensi's presence at his side. "You okay?"

Nodding, Deeks set his lips grimly. "I'll be better when this is over."

Kensi squeezed his shoulder in silent affirmation. Circling his finger, the SWAT team fell in line behind him. Everyone was clad in Kevlar; SWAT completed the outfits with helmets and masks. Deeks, on the other hand, wore his NCIS-emblazoned vests, spare gun strapped to his thigh. Kensi gave him a nod; the team moved forward.

_BANG!_

The sound echoed along the cul-de-sac, setting the entire team running for the perimeter.

_BANG!_

Again, the gunshot tore through the air. The door opened, revealing Alan Miles, shotgun in hand.

"I want to talk to my daughter!" he declared.

Deeks grabbed the loudspeaker from an officer. "Never going to happen, Alan!" he called back.

"I won't speak to anyone but my daughter!" Stepping back into the house, he slammed the door behind him.

Cursing under his breath, Marty turned to Kensi.

"Well?" she asked.

Sam and Callen peeled up in the Charger, running up to Deeks.

"Any progress?" Callen asked.

"He insists on talking to Kayla," Kensi supplied.

"Then let him talk to me!"

Every face whipped around to see Kayla duck under the police line. Deeks ran up to her, grabbing her arm.

"What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay away."

"I can help!"

"No!"

Kensi touched his shoulder. "Deeks," she breathed, eyes insistent.

Years together as partners made it easy for him to decipher her unspoken entreaty. Sam and Callen, too, looked at him sharply.

"No!" he repeated. It was more protest than order.

"Marty," Kayla breathed, squeezing his hand, "I can do this."

His jaw tensed, eyes flashing. "Okay." The word ripped from his lips as if it killed him.

Kayla nodded, releasing Deeks.

"You're wearing a vest."

"Marty, I've been trained for this."

"It doesn't make it any easier."

A cop supplied the vest as Kayla removed her coat—her favorite, Marty's green jacket. He took it from her reverently. It was her security blanket. She nodded at him; he didn't remark on the pallor of her face. Finally dressed in the vest, Deeks pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Stay safe, baby," he sighed, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

"For you?" she laughed, "Always."

"I'm here, Alan!" she called, stepping in front of the barricade. "You wanted to talk to me."

There was silence, then the door opened slowly. The sheriff stood at the ready, shotgun cocked against his shoulder.

"Kayla?"

"Come on, Alan, you aren't going to shoot me."

The gun wavered in his hands, but he didn't lower it.

"Why won't you call me dad?"

Kayla bit her lip. "You know why. No father treats their daughter the way you treated me."

The earpiece buzzed in her ear. "Kayla, you need to be nicer to him."

Cursing under her breath, she smiled tightly at Alan. "I heard you were under investigation."

"You care?"

"Of course I do, dad."

"There, you called me dad!" he exclaimed.

"Dad, where's Andy?" Kayla pressed.

"I just want us to be a family."

Kayla furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"You left me and took my son with me."

"Dad," she bit the name out like poison, "Andy is not your son."

"Yes, he is, and I'll have proof within the hour."

"How?" she demanded. "Where is Andy?"

"I'm running a DNA sample."

Once again, Marty's voice buzzed in her ear. "He ran the DNA. It came up negative."

"Dad," she repeated the name to establish a tenuous connection, "we got the results—they were negative."

"What do you mean? The tech said it was inconclusive."

"She lied."

"You're lying!" he accused. "You and your idiot boyfriend!"

"Dad," she sighed, "Andy is Marty and my son."

"No! You were only mine! No one else had you!"

The majority of the cops on scene gagged, realizing what they were talking about.

"You're wrong. I slept with Marty the night before I left the academy."

"You're lying."

"I hadn't been taking my birth control; I didn't think I'd need it."

"No."

"Yes," she breathed. "Andy is Marty's son."

Alan shook; the gun slipped from his shoulder. Kayla took the opportunity to move forward slowly.

"He may not be your son, but he is you grandson," she pleaded. "Please, where is he?"

"I just wanted to have my family again," he sighed, tired.

"I know." She reached out, taking the muzzle of the gun in her hand. "We are a family."

_One step more_, she thought, _and I'll have him._

"But you won't let me. Why?"

"Because you hurt me." Kayla took the gun, holding it away from them. An officer ran forward, retrieving it.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, reaching for her.

Deeks tensed, but Alan simply wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Kayla remained stiff in the embrace. "I forgive you."

For a moment, the lie hung in the air. It nearly killed her to say it. The tension could be cut with a knife.

"Good," Alan whispered in her ear.

Quick as a flash, he whipped her around and pressed a gun—where did he get that gun?—to her temple.

Deeks slapped himself in the forehead for missing the spare weapon tucked in the small of the sheriff's back.

"Alan?" he yelled. "Alan, let her go!"

"Why? So she can lie to me some more?"

"She's not lying!"

"I just wanted to be a family!"

"I believe you!" he called back. "But that's not going to happen."

"Let her go and we'll talk."

"We'll see about that," Alan whispered in Kayla's ear. "It's fun, holding you like this."

"Shut up," she spat.

He nipped at her ear as she felt the bile rise in her throat. "Just like old times, right?"

"Is this how you treat family?" she spat back.

"You always were a bitch."

Deeks glanced at Kensi. His partner's face mimicked his disgust.

Kayla's skin crawled, but her patience was growing thin. "Yeah, well, you were always an asshole."

"You see," he rambled, "I have nothing to live for. No job, no son, no daughter. You hate me. Andy hates me. I'm about to go on trial. My life is over."

"Come on, Dad," she pleaded, "just let me go. We can talk about this."

"No. The talking's over."

Alan's grip tightened around her waist; he pressed the gun harder against her head. Deeks recognized the change in tone. Dark, dead, cold. The sheriff was about to make a move.

"Kayla…" he warned.

Kayla understood; she had heard that tone before. It was now or never. Alan's hand shifted against the gun. She nodded—a shift nearly imperceptible to anyone else, but Deeks understood.

A gunshot crackled through the air. Kayla froze. Was she dead?

But no, Alan slumped against her, bullet hold in the center of his forehead. Shaking, Kayla laid him on the ground. Blood poured from the back of his skull—the hole was bigger than a softball—and she gagged.

Marty's arms were around her, pulling Kayla away from the body. He whispered in her ear, quieting her, soothing her. His hand smoothed her hair, the other caressed her back.

"Hey, hey, hey," he crooned, walking her away from the scene. "It's okay. I'm here."

"Andy!" The realization hit her like a sack of bricks. Their one link to Andy's location was dead.

"It's okay; we'll find him," he reassured her, but he was just as uncertain as she.

"Will we?"

But just as she asked, her cell phone rang. She pressed _talk_, but it took a moment to greet the caller.

"Hello?"

"We have you son."

Kayla's face went whiter—as if it could—and Deeks grabbed the phone from her.

"Listen, you son of a bitch. The sheriff is dead. So if you don't want to dig yourself a bigger hole than you're already in, you need to hand over my son—yes, my son—and I might consider a deal."

A sick smile stretched across Marty's face and Kayla could tell the kidnappers were easily intimidated.

"So, where's my kid?"

Andy could tell something was wrong. The kidnappers' voices were hushed; despite the blindfold, he could tell they were huddled in the corner.

"We could still make money from this!"

"Just let him go; we're in enough hot water as it is."

"Look, the original plan was ransom. We can still go with it. You agreed to it!"

"I didn't know the dad was a cop!"

"You can bow out, but I'm making the call." The phone beeped. "You can make the money, or you can bail. Your choice."

The younger one sighed. "Fine."

Andy tried to make out the phone conversation, but the older kidnapper went outside. The call didn't last long, but when he reappeared, all confidence was gone.

"Dude, we have to get out of here." From the sound of shuffling around the room, Andy could tell he was gathering their things.

"What? I thought you said we'd make some money off this!"

"The sheriff's dead, and the kid's dad is dead set on finding us. We need to move."

"What about the kid?"

"Leave him. They'll find him soon enough."

Within minutes, his captors were gone, peeling away in their vehicle. Andy breathed a sigh of relief through the gag. Stretching his jaw, he tested the fabric. The material was rank and coated in grease. Though his mouth was small, the gag still left him some wiggle room. Fighting his gag reflex, he pressed his tongue against the fabric, chewing it forward at the same time. After what seemed like an eternity, he spat it out.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned his attention to the zip ties securing his hands to the chair. Even without sight, he could tell he lacked the strenth to break the plastic, so he began sawing the restraints against the chair's wood. It was slow going. His wrists smarted as the ties cut through his skin. Blood seeped through the wounds, but he kept on.

Ah! One arm broke free and he wripped the blindfold off. He glanced around frantically. The boathouse was a veritable cornucopia of tools to cut himself loose, but they all were out of reach.

The blaring of sirens filled the air and Andy's hopes soared.

"I'm in here!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but the sound was drowned out by the sirens.

Boots pounded on the dock and he screamed again. The muffled sound made its way through the thin boards of the boathouse. Kayla pulled Marty's old jacket closer, listening. He had told her to wait with the EMTs back at her father's house, but she would have none of it.

"Cut the sirens!" Deeks ordered. The officers obeyed instantly. "Andy?"

"Dad!"

Deeks rushed toward the sound. "Andy!"

It was like a sick game of Marco Polo. "Dad!"

The door was locked, but Deeks kicked through the rotting wood, Kayla right behind him. There, in the center of the room, sat Andy.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, waving his freed hand.

Kayla rushed past him, as Marty did a visual sweep of the room. Satisfied, he tucked the gun into his leg holster and rushed to Andy's side.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Kayla cupped his face, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

One eye was markedly blackened, but the marks on Andy's knuckles showed that he had given as good as he got. "I'm fine, Mom," he sighed happily.

Deeks grabbed a filet knife and cut Andy loose. Once free, he collapsed into his father's arms. "I got you, Sport, I got you."

Kayla embraced them both as mother and father sighed with relief.


	36. Chapter 36

It was dark out when the EMTs were done with Andy. Kayla held his hand the entire time, but Deeks held back, clearing the scene.

Kensi grabbed his arm, nodding toward the mother and child. "Go with them; I got this."

"Kensi, she told me to stay away."

"Don't you play tortured with me. You just saved her son—your son. Go."

He walked slowly toward the ambulance, hands deep in his pockets. Andy looked up, a huge smile on his face.

"Dad!"

"Hey, Sport," Deeks replied, sitting on the fender and ruffling his hair. The change in style exposed his black eye, and he grinned sheepishly as Kayla looked on. "I'm so sorry."

Andy furrowed his brow. "You didn't make this happen."

"I should have reported Alan the first time he showed up at the house." He spoke slowly, hoping the child understood.

"Dad, you saved me." Andy took his arm out of its sling long enough to hug his father. "Thanks."

He released and yawned. Deeks smiled in spite of himself.

"Come on, Sleepyhead, we need to get you home," the mother coaxed, pulling Andy's hand.

* * *

Threesome rolled up in front of her apartment. Andy was asleep in the back seat. Even after everything he had just been through, he looked so peaceful.

"I wish I didn't have to wake him," Kayla sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Deeks looked back, smiling softly. "Let me help you," he offered.

Kayla led the way to the apartment as Deeks carried Andy up the stairs and into the child's bedroom. He stood in the doorway as he watched Kayla remove Andy's shoes and socks, tuck him into bed, and kiss his forehead. Kayla joined him in the threshold.

"He really is a great kid," Deeks whispered to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Kayla looked over her shoulder at Deeks. "You know, you're his hero."

"Today, he was my hero."

She smiled, leaning into him. Carefully, Deeks wrapped his hands around her waist, unsure of their status.

"I should have never sent you away. You gave him something to believe in; a reason to want more. I'm sorry."

Deeks kissed the top of her head. "I never understood before today how much goes in to being a parent. It's a good thing Sam and Callen went after the kidnappers; I probably would have shot them both. You lost him, worried about him, cared for him, then, when it was all done, took him home and put him to bed."

"The thing about parenting—there are these moments that are phenomenal. You know; the ones you see in the movies, or even sitcoms. But not everyone's life is a sitcom. Sometimes parenting is about getting up every day and doing the same thing and praying to God that you don't go stir crazy. Boys make messes. They're loud, obnoxious, and scary. I have no idea what will happen when he starts asking me about girls. If he's anything like you, I should probably start running for the hills."

Deeks smiled in agreement.

"After eight years, I thought I had my routine down; I could handle him as a single parent. Then you showed up and I got scared. I didn't know what it would do for our routine, but more importantly, I didn't want to share him. He's always been 'my Andy'. I haven't let anyone else in because I didn't want to screw up what we had."

"Kayla—" Deeks started.

"I didn't want to screw it up—but then you changed things for the better. Andy is himself, only more. He's thriving. You've opened up a side of him I never could have, but I got jealous. I was afraid that he would like you more than me, and I used the fight at school as an excuse to get rid of you."

"Kayla—"

"You want to know what's funny? I would have done the same thing, but he was too embarrassed to tell his mother about being beaten up at school for me to help him."

"Kayla," he tried again, and she turned her head, listening. "You'll always be his mother, and you'll always have his heart. You know why?"

"Why?"

"You've been there the whole time, and he knows you'll always be there for him."

She smiled. "Thanks."

Deeks almost kissed her, but stopped himself. "I should get going."

He pulled away from her, but she grabbed his wrist. "Stay." He looked back; her eyes implored him. "Please stay."

Within a second, he had her in his arms. She relaxed into them, releasing the tension and stress of the day. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and he could feel her tears through his shirt. She was shaking like a leaf, the day finally hitting her.

"Marty, I'm so scared."

"I'm right here."

She led him to her room, letting go of him long enough to slip off her shoes and slide under the covers, clothes and all. After a moment, Deeks joined her. She snuggled against him, safe against his warm body, wrapped in his strong arms.

Her voice wavered. "Thank you, Marty."

There was a slight disturbance on the pillow as he lifted himself close enough to kiss her neck.

"Good night, Kayla."

* * *

Kayla slept soundly that night. The sound of Deeks's breathing was soothing, the sensation of his chest against hers calming to her tired one.

Deeks didn't sleep at all. He stared at the woman before him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

After the events of the day, he realized that his presence was not healthy for the safety of his son or Kayla. She had been right; he was dangerous. Anything he did at work, anyone he put away, could come after them, and he cared too much for anything else to happen to them.

Andy had taken it like a champ; he was proud of the boy. But what of Kayla? She had been worried sick. She held it well, but when she let it out, she crumbled. And she would have to get up the next day to a whole new—whatever. He couldn't risk another kidnapping—or worse—for Andy or Kayla. It was better for them to return to life the way before he had returned then Andy living without a mother. A father working with NCIS would be an absentee father, and he never wanted that for his son.

No—he would have to go.

Kayla twisted in the bed, turning over to face him. She sighed, and her hair fell into her face. Deeks tucked her hair behind her ear, taking in her every feature. As if she knew he was looking, she smiled peacefully. He stroked her cheek and ran his thumb across her lips.

The sun peeked over the horizon. He knew he had to leave, but he couldn't stop staring at her. He groaned, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling on his shoes.

One last look, he told himself.

She was sprawled out on the bed, half above, half below the blankets. The sunrise illuminated her skin. It was pure and clean. There was no makeup and just a hint of California tan. Her skirt was riding up her thigh…he had to force himself to look elsewhere. That smile remained.

Crawling onto the bed, he placed a lingering kiss on her lips…and was gone.

* * *

Kayla bolted awake at the sound of the door slamming. Grabbing a hoodie to cover herself, she ran to see the culprit of the noise.

"Deeks!" She yelled after his retreating figure. He contined walking. "Marty!"

He turned, and Kayla could see his face. His puppy dog eyes were tortured and the slightest bit misty. She ran over, looking up at him.

"Aren't you staying?"

"You were right. I'm not right for you and Andy."

Kayla's brow wrinkled. "Marty, what are you saying?"

"I need to leave you alone."

She laid her hand on his arm, pushing him towards the apartment. "Come on; let's go inside and talk."

He took a few steps with her, but halted at the top of the staircase. Upon entering that apartment, he would be defying her wishes once more, and he couldn't bear to do it again.

"No." He turned his face away; he couldn't stand to see her now.

A soft hand turned his chin back. "Marty, what's going on?"

"You were right. I'm no good for Andy or you. As long as I'm around, you won't be safe."

"You make us safe!" Kayla contradicted.

"I shot you father!"

"I told you to! You were amazing yesterday."

He pulled away. "That was yesterday. What about today? Or tomorrow? I've put away a lot of guys and any one of them could come after you."

"You forget that it was my dad who came after Andy—not one of your guys."

"But what happens next time? What happens if one of my old marks comes after you?"

"You seem to forget that I can handle myself—and besides! You'd be here to protect us."

"I'd protect you better if I left you alone."

Her lip quivered. "You can't mean that," she whispered.

"I made you a promise, and the best way for me to keep it is to walk away."

"That is the most cowardly thing I have ever heard you say," she accused. "You'd rather abandon your son on the off chance something might happen to us?

"Kayla, these guys don't mess around! If they find out my weakness, they'll exploit it at the first chance they get. That's what they do: hurt the people you love."

Kayla's mouth dropped, her hands falling to her sides. "You love me?"

The detective forced down the impulse to kiss her on the spot. "Yes—no—it doesn't matter. All that matters is that as long as I'm in your life, neither you nor Andy are safe."

"I don't care," Kayla shook her head.

"You don't understand!" He fairly yelled, beginning to pace. "I can't always protect you, and if you got taken—I don't know what I would do. If I'm unattached to you, no one will come after you."

She folded her arms and cocked her hip. "You just love to torture yourself."

"You'll be fine without me. You said it; you know how to handle yourself."

"What if fine isn't good enough?" she choked out, jutting her chin defiantly.

"It's the right thing, Kaye," he pleaded.

"Oh, so now you choose to be noble," Kayla snapped. "Years of flaking, doing what you want, and this time, you choose to be noble."

"It's the right thing!" He repeated.

"Screw the right thing! I love you!"

Deeks stopped short, eyes full of inner turmoil. In two steps, he was at her side, kissing her as never before. It was hard and passionate, as Deeks squeezed his eyes shut, committing every sensation to memory. It seemed to last forever, but only until he broke away softly, rubbed his thumb over her lips, and was gone.

Kayla opened her eyes a moment later, entranced, but found no one in front of her.

"Deeks?" she called. "Deeks?"

There never was an answer.

"You ass! Curse you and your nobility!"

She did not know that the object of her affections stood just around the corner, panting, and wishing with every fiber of his being that he could go back.


	37. Chapter 37

The week passed slowly. Andy took his father's departure hard. In an effort to honor Deeks' promise to protect Andy, she reiterated that Marty's absence was safer than his presence. Granted, she disagreed, but it wasn't her place to besmirch his father's memory.

Kayla stood in her childhood home. The CSIs had finished with the house, leaving it slightly disheveled and utterly silent. A chill ran down her back and she pulled Marty's old jacket closer. Her father's will had been read, leaving everything to her, but she didn't want anything belonging to him. If she could have it her way, the house would burn to the ground.

Next to her, Pat squeezed her shoulder. They had reconciled, leaving their relationship stronger than ever. Pat's name wasn't Patricia O'Neal, but rather Claire Barnes. As Claire wasn't a full NCIS agent, when the assignment ended, she had nowhere else she needed to be. She chose to stay at Kayla's side as a business partner, honorary mother to Kayla and aunt to Andy.

As Kayla climbed to the attic, she remembered her father moving her mother's belongings upstairs. The boxes were dust-covered, untouched for over a decade—possibly two. Pushing the dust away gently, she read the inscription.

ELLEN – ART

Her fingers shook as she flipped through the canvases, enchanted by the images from her youth. The door slammed, jarring her from her reverie. Kayla crept down from the attic on tiptoes, Claire moving behind her. Turning a corner, Kayla glimpsed a shock of sandy blonde hair.

"Deeks?"

Marty slammed a drawer, shoving his hands into his pocket. "Kayla? What are you doing here?"

"I own the place," she shot back. "What are you doing here?"

"I—was checking out the crime scene."

"Deeks," she said softly, "this place was cleared yesterday. Why are you really here?"

He pursed his lips, looking purely hopeless. Kayla moved to touch him and he pulled away.

"I'll just leave."

"You don't have to." They squared off. "This self-inflicted ostracism is childish!"

"I'm looking out for you."

"No. What you're doing is the lazy way of keeping your promise."

"You think this is lazy?" Deeks choked on his words. "Every second is torture."

"Then why?"

She reached out to touch his cheek; he nuzzled against her hand for the briefest of seconds before bolting.

* * *

Rain pounded on the windows, the first good soaking in a long time. Kayla leaned against the glass, watching it fall. She smiled faintly, remembering that night back at the academy. Her breath fogged up the window, reminding her of when she and Deeks steamed up the station wagon windows. Rubbing the haze away, she squinted down at the street.

_Was that...?_

_No, he wouldn't be so bold._

But there it was, Marty's familiar red Ford.

Kayla bit her lip. This shadowing had to stop. Over the past three days, she had spotted him outside Andy's school, outside her dad's place, and now, outside her apartment. If he wanted out of her life then he needed to keep up his end of the bargain. This wasn't healthy for her heart or his. She glanced over her shoulder at Andy, contentedly playing his video game.

"Honey, I'll be back in a second."

"Okay, mom!" he replied, focused on the TV.

Deeks kept his eyes on the apartment, but was shocked when Kayla appeared in the street. She was instantly drenched. Concern melted away as he noticed her clothes stick to her like a second skin. Barefoot, she padded around to the passenger side and tapped imperatively on the window. He was loathe to roll down the window, so he unlocked the door. She sat down and, without giving him a chance to react, pressed her lips on his. It took him half a second to respond, but when he did, there were no inhibitions.

"You're an idiot," she whispered, pulling away. "An absolute moron. How can we have this…spark…and yet insist on staying away?"

Deeks had to clear his throat to find his voice. "It's safer."

"You don't honestly believe that."

"I do," he replied with conviction. "Maybe if we had stayed together back then, but now…"

"Listen to me," she ordered. "I haven't worked at this relationship for the past eight months for you to throw it away because you're scared for us. It may be impossible to prove, but I don't think we would have managed then. I wasn't strong enough. You led; I clung on like a needy baby girl. I needed you, but you didn't need me. But now, we're equals. I can take care of myself—even Andy can defend himself. You and me—we're perfect for each other. Now you just need to get your head out of your ass and agree with me."

Sighing, Deeks opened his mouth to object, but her determined glare silenced him.

"Now, I'm not going to force this on you. You're stubborn enough for me to know I'm not going to change your mind. So I'm going to get out of this car, walk away, and wait for the day you show up at my door again."

Kayla opened the door, stepping out into the rain once more. Splashing in puddles as she crossed the street, she made sure to swing her hips with every step. Deeks groaned, laying his head flat against the seat. Was he really going to let her walk away?

"Augh!" he screamed, steeling himself.

In one swift moment, he climbed out of the car, calling after her. "Marry me!"

That got her attention. She turned so quickly, her blonde hair slapped her face. "What?"

"Marry me, you infuriating woman!" he repeated. "If you need me so badly, then marry me!"

"Oh, that's rich!" she called back. "You? Nailed down?"

He stepped up to her, wrapping one arm around her soaked waist. "You insist that you need me. I'm willing to take that step if you are. Of course, you'll have to promise to stop kicking me out whenever you feel like it."

Kayla placed a hand to her forehead in mock rapture. "I must admit, sir, I am somewhat less than swept off my feet."

In response, Deeks dug in his pocket, producing a small diamond ring. Kayla's jaw dropped in awe.

"How about now?" he smirked.

"That's my mother's ring!" she gaped. "Where did you get that?"

"I sort of stole it from your house. I figured that you had my old jacket; I needed something to remember you by."

"You get more romantic by the moment."

Deeks dropped slowly to one knee, barely noticing that he knelt in a puddle. "So, how about it?"

"How about what?" Kayla played coy.

"Will you marry me?"

She pretended to think about it for a moment, but a call came from the upstairs window. "Say yes!"

Both parents looked up to see their audience of one: Andy had his head stuck out the window.

"It appears I have no choice," she sighed teasingly. "Yes, Marty Deeks, I think I will marry you."

Andy whooped, but they barely noticed. Deeks slid the ring onto her finger and she lifted him out of the puddle. He wrapped his arms around her; she laced hers behind his neck. His hair was flat with rain; droplets hung on his bangs. Dew clung to Kayla's lashes as she looked up at him. Her lips were lusciously damp with water as he pulled her in for a wet kiss. The cold faded away as they held each other.

Kayla broke away with a laugh. "I think we should definitely talk in the rain more often."

He kissed her nose and smiled. "Agreed."

"Get a room!" Andy yelled down at them.

"Close the window if you don't want to see!" Kayla called back, kissing Deeks once more.

* * *

The team noticed a difference in Deeks when he showed up for work the next morning. First of all, he was on time. Second, he was rested and smiling. Experienced in the ups and downs of Marty's personal life, Kensi tried to resist asking him the reason for his behavior. Eric's all too familiar whistle sounded in the bullpen and Deeks fairly skipped up the stairs, whistling.

"All right," Kensi declared as they entered OPS. "What's the deal?"

"What deal?" Deeks attempted to answer innocently, but the smile broke his attempt at an impassive face.

"Your deal. You're smiling."

"I always smile," he defended. "I like to smile. You don't smile enough."

"No," Nell chimed in. "Kensi's right. You're acting weird."

"What happened?" Callen joined the game.

"Why can't I just be happy?"

"Because you've been moping around for the past week. Now you're all smiles," Sam commented.

"So?" Eric prodded.

"Fine!" Deeks couldn't hold it in any longer. "Kayla and I are engaged."

Well wishes and back slaps were had by all. "When's the big day?" Kensi finally asked.

"We're probably just heading to the courthouse sometime next week," he answered casually.

"Oh no, you're not, Mr. Deeks," Hetty interrupted. She had appeared silently behind him. "None of my people are getting married in a courthouse."

"We don't really have a lot of money," he explained. "Something small is fine."

"Not a chance." Hetty said definitively. "I'm planning the wedding."

Everyone's eyebrows rose and Deeks moved quickly to amend her declaration. "We just want something small."

"Of course, Mr. Deeks, it will be small. Neither of you have many guests to invite anyway, if I am correct. But a ceremony and reception in Italy are not out of the question." Hetty shook her finger in thought. "I think I have a seized villa we can use, and of course, she'll need a dress…"

The director disappeared through the door, deep in the throes of wedding planning. Back in OPS, the team exchanged glances in an attempt not to laugh. Deeks exhaled audibly.

"I guess that's that!"


	38. Chapter 38

Why Kayla had agreed to a sunset wedding, she had no idea. Jitters had bugged her from the moment she woke up. No matter how much she paced, sang, or ran, she couldn't shake them. She wanted to bake, or clean, or organize...just do something with her hands. Marty was barred from her; she hadn't seen him since the flight over. He was in the other wing, apparently, along with Kensi, Andy, Nell, Callen, Sam, and Eric.

Hetty had outdone herself. Though not permitted to see the ceremony or reception sites, she had caught bits and pieces of decorations. The dress, however, was another story. Hetty must have been a dressmaker in another life, because it fit like an incredibly flattering glove. Jocelyn was her maid of honor and photographer. Pat would stand by her as well, and Andy would give her away.

Kayla stood on her lavish room's balcony, trying to calm herself. The view was phenomenal, stretching across the clear Italian waters. The villa was carved into the stone of the mountain and decorated in a traditional Italian style, complete with earthen walls and colorfully patterned tiles lining the walls. She peered down, hoping to catch a glimpse of her future husband.

Setting her jaw, she determined to find Deeks. She was convinced that a kiss or embrace from him would the butterflies in her stomach. Kayla turned and marched to her door, only to find Jocelyn on the other side.

"Well, if it isn't the blushing bride!" She sang.

Kayla groaned. "Ugh. I feel like a princess locked in her tower. Are you seriously guarding my door?"

"Sorry, sweetie; I can't risk you running off to find your husband. There is tradition to uphold!"

"Since when do you stand on tradition?"

"Since Hetty ordained you remain here." Jocelyn's voice dropped to a whisper. "That woman is small but scary."

"Agreed." Kayla cracked a smile, feeling the pressure subsiding.

"So, who's that cute blonde guy?" Jocelyn asked.

Kayla raised an eyebrow incredulously. "You mean _the groom_?"

"No, silly. I had my chance at him. I'm talking about the other guy...the big black guy's partner."

"Oh!" Kayla sighed. "Callen."

"_He_ is super cute."

"Jocelyn," Kayla growled, "listen to me."

"What?" her friend blinked innocently.

"I would like for my husband to have a job to come back to after our honeymoon."

"So?"

"So I'm forbidding you to sleep with _any_ of those agents until Marty and I get back."

"What?"

"Now, I know this makes you want it more, but you need to do this, for me. Can you?"

Jocelyn blinked solemnly. "Yes."

"Good!" Kayla embraced her.

"Oh! I brought you a friend," Jocelyn stepped aside to reveal a gorgeously muscular and tanned gentleman. "Hetty ordered you a massage."

"Thank you," Kayla nodded to the masseuse, "but I doubt anyone will be able to relax my pre-wedding muscles."

"Kayla, Kayla, Kayla." Jocelyn wrapped her arm around the bride's shoulder and pulled her aside. "This may be the last time to feel another man's hands on your naked body other than your husband's. And besides...if you don't take him, I will."

To emphasize the point, Jocelyn winked at the masseuse, who flashed a full smile of pearly white teeth back.

"Fine," Kayla caved, "but I want you here in case he pulls any funny business."

"Done!" Jocelyn squealed. "I love a man who works with his hands. He doesn't speak a lick of English anyway."

* * *

On the other side of the villa, Deeks lounged poolside. Though he was calm and composed on the outside, his insides were churning. These were his last moments as a single man. Impulse told him to run through the village below, kissing every girl who crossed his path, but he knew better. Why he was so scared, he couldn't figure out. Maybe if he saw Kayla, those fears would be put to rest. However, Sam and Callen were stationed only a few yards away to prevent just that.

Kensi sat beside him on another lounge chair. "How you holding up?"

The groom let out a long sigh. "Scared shitless."

Kensi indulged in a small laugh, and her partner joined her. "Everything's going to be fine."

"You sure about that?" He looked over at her, eyes betraying the insecurity he truly felt.

"Positive. You two may be opposites, but you fit together nicely. I've never seen you as happy as you are when the two of you are together."

"But we fight so much," he postulated. "Who's to say we don't fail right out of the gate?"

"I'm guessing you won't. You guys may be at each other's throats, but you always come back together stronger than ever. If there's anything my highly unsuccessful relationships have taught me, it's not the happy times that make a marriage; it's how you weather the storms."

"Wow," Deeks sighed, "that was almost profound."

"Shut up." Kensi punched him in the arm. "I'm just trying to say that if you two still loved each other after eight years apart, odds are you'll love each other for years to come."

"Thanks, Kens," her partner squeezed her hand gratefully. "And thanks for being my best man."

"I'm just glad you let me wear a dress," she returned. "There may only be two eligible guys here (and Callen and Eric barely count as that), but a girl likes to wear a pretty dress now and then."

* * *

Fully refreshed from the massage, Kayla found herself staring at her reflection in the ceiling-height mirror, finally dressed in her wedding gown. In the background, Jocelyn covered her mouth with her hands and Claire's eyes threatened to spill their tears. Both friends were dressed in simple blush-colored knee-length dresses. At the sight of them, Kayla's eyes misted over.

"Don't you dare cry," Jocelyn threatened. "I worked too hard on your makeup."

Claire hugged her from behind. "Honey, you look beautiful."

If Kayla had any doubts in her mind about her looks, all was dispelled in this moment. Gone was the gaunt girl struggling to make it through the police academy. She was replaced with a healthy, fresh-faced woman, ready to marry the man of her dreams. Her body was sheathed in the simplest of gowns. The light ivory satin wrapped around her torso, coming to a point at her waist before flowing to the floor. The dress's only adornment was a thin blush-colored ribbon cinching her waist. Jocelyn had left her hair loose and wavy, pulled back slightly on one side and secured with a sparkling silver comb.

"Does anyone know where Andy is?" She asked, pulling herself away from the mirror.

"He's with Deeks," Jocelyn answered. "Do you want to see him?"

"Please." She smoothed the dress self-consciously.

* * *

Deeks stood in front of the mirror, fixing and retouching his hair. His off-white vest-and-trouser suit, though comfortable, felt constricting; he unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie.

"The bride wants to see Andy," Jocelyn announced upon entry to the men's wing.

Andy hopped up in response. He looked dapper in his ivory linen ensemble of pants, shirt, and vest. His hair was tamed, but only slightly. It was clear to Jocelyn that he had shaken it free of its impeccable coif for a fashion he favored. As the twosome turned to leave, Deeks caught Jocelyn's arm.

"How's she doing?"

"Nervous," Jocelyn answered honestly. "But she can't wait to see you."

Deeks bit his lip, feeling the same way. "Is she going to go through with it?"

"Without a doubt."

"How does she look?" He couldn't resist asking.

"Absolutely beautiful. You're a lucky guy." She straightened his boutonniere.

"I never doubted it."

* * *

Kayla stood behind the doors leading to the terrace. The sun had begun to set, signaling the beginning of their little ceremony, and she was positively terrified. Beside her, Andy squeezed her hand.

"Are you okay, Mom?"

She turned to her son. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

Andy smiled, a look that made him appear wise beyond his eight years. "Absolutely."

"Well, then," Kayla sighed, squaring her shoulders, "that's good enough for me."

A solo violinist, likely hired from the village below, began playing the wedding march as Claire opened the doors. Kayla took a breath, her hand squeezing Andy's so hard, he winced. But as she stepped forward into Marty's line of vision, all those fears melted away.

The very sight of her made Marty's mouth go dry. He'd never seen a more beautiful creature in his life. Amber eyes looked back at him, glowing in the sunset. She smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. His mind was blissfully blank, filled only with the sight of Kayla's glowing visage.

Mother and son came to the end of the aisle to stand in front of Hetty who, of course, was also appointed with the authority to perform the ceremony. Her small mouth smiled enigmatically and she began.

"Who gives this woman to be married?"

Andy raised his voice. "I do."

Kayla stooped to embrace him, kissing his cheek. The boy placed his mother's hand in Marty's. They stood facing each other, hand in hand, as he leaned in slightly.

"You look beautiful."

Kayla blushed and averted her eyes modestly. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He seemed to sense her feelings and squeezed her hand, mouthing _I love you_.

_I love you, too,_ she replied silently.

Their audience of seven, looked on happily. There was no use for chairs. Jocelyn danced around the terrace, snapping photos as she went. The short ceremony passed in a blur.

"Kayla and Marty will now read vows that they prepared for each other," Hetty announced, bringing bride and groom back to the present.

Deeks pulled a piece of carefully folded paper from the pocket of his ivory slacks.

"Kayla," he began. "Since I met you, I've known you by many names: Kayla Miles, Kayla Davis, and Kayla Townsend. But today, I offer you the last name you will ever carry: Kayla Deeks. We've been through so much together and, as a wise friend told me, the measure of our love isn't found in the good times, but how we weather the storms. I'm secure in this relationship because we always pull through, no matter what is at stake. Today, I promise my lips to kiss you, my mouth to taste test every new recipe, my hands to help you, and my arms to hold you, and my body to love you, forever."

Kayla dabbed at her eyes. "Damn you, you made me cry!" She laughed, retrieving her own vows from her bodice and fanned her eyes with her free hand.

It took a moment to gain composure, as their small audience laughed along with her. Finally, she sighed and righted herself.

"Marty Deeks, I owe you my life. You saved me all those years ago, and you did it again ten days ago, but that's not why I love you. I love you because you are the father of my child, my helper, and my lover. You put up with my hysterics and insecurities. I vow to never banish you to the sofa, or further, because I promise to never let the sun set on my anger. I promise to make sammiches and I vow to be the best wife I can be, and together, I will strive to be the best mother I can be."

Hetty smiled gratuitously. "Do you have the rings?"

Andy stepped forward solemnly, handing the rings to the prospective parents.

"Mr. Deeks, repeat after me."

The couple shared the sacred vows, the reality of the act sinking in with every word. Kayla's eyes never left his, sparkling in the orange sunset. The light glinted off the rings as each slid onto man and wife's fingers. In those last moments, they shared silent reassurances, unnoticed by their rapt audience.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," Hetty announced.

"Finally!" Deeks exclaimed, pulling his new wife in for a kiss that was full of the promise of more to come.

They broke away and the audience broke out in applause. Kayla blushed as Jocelyn embraced her. Andy wrapped himself around her waist; Callen and Sam clapped Deeks on the back in congratulations. Deeks thrust his fist into the air. The sun flashed its last rays against the sea. Kayla looked to her new husband as he caught Andy up into the air.

They were married.

* * *

Dinner passed with excruciating pain for both Kayla and Deeks. Every few seconds, they shared meaningful glances. The meal was flavorful, but the taste was lost on them. _Finally_, everyone disappeared to the other wing of the villa and the newlyweds headed to the bedroom.

Deeks slung his arm over Kayla's shoulder. "Well, honey bunches, you're officially stuck with me forever."

"Ditto, snuggle bottom," Kayla hip checked him affectionately. "You ready for this? Because I'm going to blow your mind."

"Honey, you don't even know what you've gotten yourself into."

"Why don't you let me _freshen up_ and we'll see who's got game."

Jocelyn had taken Kayla lingerie shopping. It was probably the most embarrassing experience of her life, but she had to admit the results were quite appealing. She touched up her lipstick, mussed her hair, and took a deep breath. Deeks sat on the bed, waiting for her.

His breath caught in his throat as she appeared. Blonde hair lay loosely across her shoulders. She wasn't naked, rather, she was wearing more than he would wish her to wear. Instead, she wore _the _jacket—that age-old army jacket he had given her on _that _night. She draped herself lazily across the bathroom threshold, allowing the coat to fall open to reveal lacy panties and a distinct _lack_ of bra.

"Hey there, big boy." She slunk across the tiled floor into his waiting arms.

"Wow. Where have you been my whole life?" He kissed her slowly. "Have you been taking your birth control?"

_Of all the things to say. _Laughing, Kayla pushed him backward onto the bed. "I've taken it religiously ever since New Years' day."

"Should I pull out a condom for safety?"

Kayla leaned over, pinning his arms. "Shut up."

"I just don't want any surprises this time," he teased.

She lowered her lips, hovering mere millimeters above his. "Stop talking."

"Is this going to be a common conversation?"

As if it was possible, Kayla moved even closer. "Would you rather give me some _space_?"

Deeks grinned wolfishly as their breath mingled. "Shutting up."

* * *

The end!

* * *

Author's note: This has been a total blast to write, and I'm sorry it's over. However, I'm working on a Jocelyn-centric sequel. I don't know when I'll be ready to release it; I have a very non-linear style of writing that consists of a vague plot outline and scene-by-scene development. Only then do I tie it all together. I can, however, release a synopsis:

Serial bachelorette and LAPD detective Jocelyn Hart becomes infatuated with G. Callen when he turns her down because of his 'no handcuffs' rule. Through harmless flirtation, innocent advances, and a little bit of intrigue, the two begin to realize…they may be meant for each other after all. Loose sequel to 'Promises'.


	39. No Handcuffs Allowed Preview!

Hey! This is the first chapter of my new story, No Handcuffs Allowed! It's a sequel of sorts, picking up at Kayla and Deeks's wedding, though you won't have to read 'Promises' to enjoy it. Pop over to my profile to follow the new story as I post fresh chapters!

Synopsis: Serial bachelorette and LAPD detective Jocelyn Hart becomes infatuated with G. Callen when he turns her down because of his 'no handcuffs' rule. Through harmless flirtation, innocent advances, and a little bit of intrigue, the two begin to realize…they may be meant for each other after all. Loose sequel to 'Promises'.

* * *

The wedding reception was in full swing. Sunset had passed, leaving an ambient orange glow along the horizon. Inside the large Italian villa, the small group of guests celebrated the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Marty Deeks.

For Jocelyn Hart, this was a celebration long overdue; a marriage she had a large personal stake in.

There was drama, a heavy dose of conflict, and true love laced through the happy couple's story, and Jocelyn had witnessed it all. She reveled in her triumph.

"Hart!" Deeks called across the room. "Dance with me, darling."

Jocelyn laid a hand on her chest, mockingly scandalized. "But what will your wife think?"

The detective twirled her before pulling her close. "I won't tell her if you won't."

"Even in marriage, you are still a scoundrel."

"What can I say? Every cure takes time." Deeks swept her around once again. "When are you going to find your cure?"

She threw back her head in laughter. "I doubt monogamy is in the cards for me; he'd have to be quite a man."

"So you amuse yourself with matchmaking."

"We both know my friendship with Kayla is more than just amusement."

The detective's smile faded for a fraction of a second as he lapsed into seriousness. "You saved her."

"We both did," Jocelyn replied modestly. "You built her up, I just pointed her in the right direction. She needed a cheerleader."

"Your friendship means a lot to her-and to me. I guess it's a good thing you never slept with me."

Jocelyn threw her head back into a full-bodied laugh. "I was getting around to you, I just met Kayla first.

I think I even called you the "hot blonde guy" during our first conversation. Still," she shrugged, "sisters before misters."

It was Marty's turn to chuckle. "So glad you had a moral compass back then."

She hip-checked him. "I'm getting better! I even promised Kayla I wouldn't sleep with any of your coworkers at the wedding."

"That's very big of you," he smiled condescendingly.

"Shut up. I don't sleep around as often as I used to. I've taken up running again, thanks to your wife, and I've become addicted to a number of TV shows. Besides, I have real friends to hang out with now, and they're so much more fun than the fake posse I used to run with."

"I'm glad; Andy needs an aunt to look up to, and it's better if you aren't a whore."

Jocelyn gasped dramatically. "I prefer the term semi-reformed slut."

"How indelicate of me," he teased.

The song blended into a new one, and Jocelyn embraced her friend. "Now stop wasting your time with me and dance with your woman!"

She slipped to the edge of the dance floor, watching Deeks capture Kayla once more. The other guests had taken to the floor: Andy with Claire, Callen with Hetty, Sam with Kensi, Eric with Nell. Everyone was laughing and chatting like the old friends they were. Despite her natural confidence, Jocelyn was quickly feeling like the odd man out. She retrieved a glass of champagne and contented herself to people watch.

Observation was something she was good at. Years in the society circuit had trained her to recognize subtle body cues, dissect clothing choices, and form opinions based on her deductions.

Of course, one didn't need to be trained in observation to see that the two technical analysts were smitten. Despite the lively music, Eric and Nell moved close to each other, touching more than necessary. Nell, spritely as she was, clearly had the upper hand. She teased and flirted without giving too much. This behavior had Eric wrapped around her little finger, following her movements like a lost puppy dog.

She could tell Sam was a married man, despite the lack of wedding ring. He held Kensi with familiarity but maintained gentlemanly hand placement. Kensi was enjoying herself, but Jocelyn knew from experience that she was probably stinging a bit. It was never easy attending a close friend's wedding while unattached yourself-especially someone as close as your partner.

The only unattached man in the room danced with his small boss. Jocelyn couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Hetty barely passed Callen's belly button, but held her dignity just the same. He grinned down at her, fondness coloring his ice blue eyes. Even as he spun her, she smiled, ribbing him about something. There seemed to be a mother to son undercurrent running between them, something Jocelyn appreciated.

Callen was definitely good looking. He wasn't overly fit; he moved with neither insecurity or overconfidence, both of which she'd seen far too often in her fellow officers. Indeed, an easy smile graced his lips, complementing his agreeable face. He was clean-shaven for the event and buzzed blonde hair topped his head. He would blend into the background of any event, be it a society event or a crowded street. She supposed that was ideal for his line of work, where anonymity was key, but as he turned his smile on her, she realized he would be branded on her mind forever.

"Kayla!" she called to her friend.

The bride came gliding over to her, beaming. "Yes, sweetie?"

Jocelyn wrapped an arm around Kayla, pointing her discreetly at Agent Callen. "Are you sure he isn't my thank you gift?"

Her impertinence earned her an incredulous look from Kayla. "You promised, Joce. No trysts with Marty's coworkers."

"It's just one night," she pleaded impishly.

"No," Kayla replied with the imperative air of a mother. "I can't come back from my honeymoon to find you've fucked Marty's career."

"I just want to fuck that guy over there."

"Keep it in your pants until Marty and I get back. At least then you'll be supervised."

"I've spent the past eight years supervising you kids. The least you could do is give me a night of fun."

"Drink some champagne, dance to the music, and go to bed-_alone_."

Jocelyn stuck out her tongue. "Fine, mother."

Kayla grinned, kissing her friend's cheek. "Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone."

Her gaze collided with the blue-eyed agent across the room once more. "I'll try."

* * *

The maid of honor was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Agent G. Callen had ever seen.

Deeks warned she was a man-eater, but one glance at her and he didn't care. She'd hidden behind her bulky camera during the ceremony, but now that the sun had set, she looked like the female projection of the moon. Thick dark hair tumbled down to the middle of her back, styled to effortless perfection.

High cheekbones created alluring contours across her fair face, drawing attention to full lips and intense eyes. Somewhere between green and blue, they sparked with an intelligence not usually found in someone so attractive.

She danced around the reception, snapping photos. The idea of a camera pointed in his direction set him on edge, especially when that camera was in the hands of a civilian. Hetty didn't seem particularly worried, so he let it slide. Any woman outside the immediate circle of OSP agents who managed to get on this little vacation had to be somewhat trustworthy.

The bride and groom danced their last dance and disappeared to the honeymoon suite after a round of lighthearted teasing. The maid of honor headed to the terrace; Callen found himself tempted to follow.

* * *

The Italian night was breathtaking. The stars burned bright above their remote retreat, once the home to some arms dealers who managed to tick off NCIS. It was now in the custody of the federal government, and a makeshift wedding destination. Barely an hour ago, the adobo walls glowed orange in the sunset. The patio wall still held some warmth from the sun; she sat on the edge, looking up at the stars. Jocelyn was so busy tracing constellations, she didn't notice the agent standing next to her.

"You definitely don't get stars like this out in LA."

"Mmm," she responded absentmindedly.

Silence fell; he tried again. "I'm Callen."

"I know." The enchantress finally lowered her chin to look at him properly. Up close, those hybrid eyes were even more unnerving. "I'm Jocelyn Hart."

The name suited her.

"How do you know the bride?" His small talk was rusty, but champagne made everyone more relaxed.

Jocelyn smiled, remembering her and Kayla's meeting at the Police Academy. "Kayla and I used to work together."

"How long have you known Deeks?"

"I've known Deeks nearly as long as Kayla."

Callen's curiosity was piqued, considering Kayla's friendship with Jocelyn was over eight years old. "Wow. What was he like back then?"

"He was an incorrigible ass. He slept with just about anyone and didn't stay with one girl for more than a couple of days."

"Sounds a bit like Deeks' description of you."

Jocelyn laughed. "He called me an incorrigible ass?"

"No, he said you were a bit...loose."

"Delicately put," she allowed, "but correct. Existential crisis played a big part, and I haven't managed to shake that reputation since."

"Did you two ever..."

"Hell, no!" Jocelyn objected vehemently. A chuckle escaped her lips and Callen joined in. "Call me old fashioned, but I don't sleep with guys my best friend is pining after."

"That's very big of you," he condescended, though his eyes teased her. "I guess you're a pretty good friend."

She bit her lip enticingly. "I'm wishing I wasn't."

"Oh?" His eyebrows went up with interest.

"Kayla made me promise I wouldn't sleep with you. Something about wanting her husband to have a job when they get back."

Callen laughed heartily, his chest rumbling with the humor. "Did she now? It's nice to know the happy couple is on the same page."

"Hmm," she agreed. "They didn't used to be. I nearly lost my mind getting them together. Tonight is a time to celebrate, and my hands are tied."

He'd like to see her tied up.

"Well, while we're celebrating, would you like some more champagne?"

A little flirting seemed harmless enough. She smiled invitingly, running a hand down his forearm almost—but not quite—accidentally. "Sounds perfect."

A bottle and champagne flutes appeared from behind his back; Jocelyn realized he'd brought it with him.

"So do you take photos for a living?" he gestured to the camera at her hip.

"Oh, this?" She turned the camera in her hand as if she'd forgotten it was there. "No. I just love to record life. A friend told me once that life's too short. We need to capture every moment."

"No offense to your friend," Callen replied slowly with a small step closer, "but some moments are better experienced rather than recorded."

His words held a double meaning she desperately wanted to take advantage of. "I see your point." Her voice grew husky. "Some moments are better kept private."

The sea breeze tousled her dark hair; Callen gave into the urge to tuck a curl behind her ear. The motion aligned their faces; his fingers brushed her cheek intimately.

"That's something I struggle with," she admitted. "I want to remember every moment, every touch, every relationship. I want to have photos of people I love and burn one of people I hate."

Her eyes swirled from blue to green, sparking with hidden passion. Callen felt it radiating off of her; it pulled him even closer.

"You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admitted, in awe of her.

"I'm more interested in you," she replied honestly. "Special agent extraordinaire Callen." Her eyebrows pulling together in thought. "Is Callen your first or last name?"

"Last name. Most people call me G."

Jocelyn stifled a giggle. "As in gee whiz?"

"As in the seventh letter of the alphabet," he clarified.

This time, Jocelyn did laugh. "Your parents named you after a letter?"

"I just don't have a full name."

His tone indicated a hidden frustration; Jocelyn hesitated before continuing. "I'm sure you answer this a lot, but how does that even happen?"

"My parents died before I was old enough to remember it."

That killed the mood, Jocelyn thought wryly.

"Well, if you don't have a name, I'll just have to give you one."

This is new, Callen mused. He quirked a brow in challenge. "You can try."

Jocelyn stepped back, far enough to look him up and down. He felt naked under her gaze, but she only bit her lip in thought. "You don't look like a George or Greg."

He didn't feel like a George or Greg.

"Gavin?" she tried. "Garrett?"

Callen shook his head.

Silence fell. Jocelyn continued to chew her lip, tempting Callen more than she realized. She released it with a triumphant gasp.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed. "Gabriel. Your name is Gabriel."

"Right," he laughed sardonically. "I'm an angel with a SIG-Sauer P229."

"I don't know," Jocelyn teased, "I can imagine you looked like a perfect cherub as a baby, all golden hair and blue eyes. I think it fits you."

"Gabriel Callen," he tried it out. It had a nice ring to it, if a bit formal. He'd never really thought about what he was like as a baby. No one lived to tell the tale and he preferred not to think about his parents, long gone.

"However," Jocelyn interrupted his thoughts, "I bet your parents called you Gabe."

"That sounds better."

Relaxing, Jocelyn offered him a supportive smile. "Do I have leave to call you Gabe?"

Their friends may be married, but neither party imagined they would meet again after this night.

"Why not?"

She offered him a pleased smile.

"From what I hear, you're no angel either."

"Oh?" Her lips curved wickedly.

"Deeks told me to steer clear." Even as he spoke, Callen took a step forward.

_Damn that detective_, Jocelyn cursed inwardly. Didn't he know that information like that was practically an open invitation?

She would like nothing more than to indulge his imagination; the energy emanating from the agent was intoxicating. Jocelyn had never been one to resist raw attraction, and a pull this strong didn't come around every day. Loyalty was important to Jocelyn, but would it really hurt to indulge a little?

"Well," she breathed, placing her hands on his chest, "Forbidden fruit always has the sweetest nectar."

Callen's eyes flickered to her lips, pink and inviting. She liked them in anticipation, fully aware of his intent.

"I wonder what it tastes like," he whispered darkly. Seduction didn't always come easy to him, but everything seemed to flow in her presence.

Jocelyn inhaled sharply. The breath pulled him in; dragging his lips down to hers.

Their bodies took bare moments to become acquainted. The chemistry of touch made it impossible to pull away.

One night stands were always Jocelyn's forte, but she hand't realized just out of practice she was. No one got the upper hand on her, ever. Grasping his shirt tightly, she deepened the kiss. He responded readily, tangling his hands through her dark hair. Need for control surged within her, and she mastered it.

* * *

He was kissing a complete stranger. Agent G. Callen was kissing a woman he barely knew-and he didn't want to stop. It had been a very long time since he'd let any woman this close. He was always careful, always cautious.

He never took the same road to work twice. Routine didn't exist for him; it was too easy to track. Too many friends fell into that trap and died. Even more fell for the classic femme fatale. It was an inescapable hazard of espionage.

So why was he kissing this beautiful enchantress after only minutes of conversation?

Never before had he met a woman so malleable to his body. She kissed like Aphrodite herself, with a heat he'd never tasted. It would be easy to sit her up on a hip-high pillar and take full advantage of her, but it was clear she took no prisoners.

A groan erupted from her throat—or was it his— betraying just how much power she had over him. She smiled into the kiss, nipping at his lower lip. In an attempt to regain control, he moved to her neck, placing kisses along the alabaster notch at her collarbone.

Chemistry sizzled between them, wicked thoughts raced through Callen's mind. How could he possibly stop now? Hands made their way to her hips; he pressed her as close as humanly possible. Clothes seemed unbearably constricting; his coat fell to the ground, the result of her nimble fingers.

Tomorrow, he would blame it on the moonlight, but tonight, he needed this more than air in his lungs...until he couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," he swore, breaking away. Forehead to forehead, dared not pull away. "How good of a friend are you?"

Jocelyn laughed wryly. "Unfortunately, I'm the most badass friend ever."

"Is that good or bad?" he panted.

"Mmm," Jocelyn mumbled against his lips. "Good for her, bad for you."

"That's terrible."

"It really is."

An idea dawned in Callen's mind, even as he kissed her jaw. "What if..."

"Yes?" Jocelyn asked, a little too eagerly.

"What if we get a drink once we're back stateside. After the honeymoon, of course."

"Bar or club?"

"Bar."

"Done."

They sealed the deal with a searing kiss.

"Damn," she breathed as she clung to him. "One of us really need to walk away, or I'll be breaking more than a few promises."

He nodded, darkened eyes gazing into hers possessively. Large hands slid to hold hers. "Until California?"

"Until California."

The agent turned and walked back inside the building, leaving Jocelyn wanting more...and cursing her loyalties.

Callen turned the corner into the hallway to find Sam smirking at him.

"Enjoying yourself, G?"

"Shut up," he retorted, too distracted to find a witty remark. His mind was still muddled by the dark-haired beauty on the patio.

* * *

Hetty looked down on the couple's not-so-private display of affection from her second-story suite.

"Oh, no," her friend and former coworker, Claire, chided the director. "I know that look."

"What look?" the small woman looked up innocently.

"That is the look of incurable meddler."

"I have no idea of what you speak."

Claire raised a skeptical eyebrow. A former NCIS psychiatrist, she knew better.

Hetty sighed, giving in. "Sometimes, this old woman gets tired of plotting terrorists' fate. Sometimes, it's nice to bring people together. Besides, who are you judging? You were the enabler for Deeks and Kayla."

"One and done. Don't go sticking your nose into other people's business. It messes with the status quo."

"Mr. Callen is like a son to me. Shouldn't I want his happiness?"

"You should leave him be."

"Pish," Hetty waved her off. "This is just a bit of harmless fun. Nothing to worry about."


End file.
